BLITZED

RULES OF POSSESSION
BOOK 3
S.E. HARMON
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Blitzed© 2022 by S.E. Harmon. Cover Art © 2022 by S.E. Harmon. Cover content is for illustrative
purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution
via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution
and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or
given to others. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever,
including but not limited to being stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form by any
means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the written permission
of the author.
 To Angel
Bittersweet is all that remains
There is always some madness in love. But there is also always
some reason in madness.
— FRIEDRICH NIETZSCHE
 CONTENTS

1. Andrew
2. Andrew
3. Andrew
4. Andrew
5. Andrew
6. Jesse
7. Andrew
8. Jesse
9. Andrew
10. Andrew
11. Jesse
12. Jesse
13. Andrew
14. Jesse
15. Jesse
16. Andrew
17. Andrew
18. Andrew
19. Andrew
20. Jesse
21. Andrew
22. Andrew
23. Jesse
24. Andrew
25. Jesse
26. Andrew
27. Jesse
28. Jesse
29. Jesse
30. Jesse
31. Jesse
32. Jesse
33. Andrew
Epilogue

Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Also by S.E. Harmon
1
 ANDREW

M y mother was trying to get rid of me.

I watched her bustle around the kitchen, putting the finishing
touches on some pot roast dish that I wasn’t allowed to touch. It wasn’t
anything that she’d said, per se, but there was definitely a nice of you to
drop in, oh, is that the time vibe in the air. Usually, my brother and I had to
use a grapple and hook to sneak out of her house. It was always understood
that one of us wasn’t going to make it out. The one who did sent pictures to
his fallen comrade while drinking a beer in his honor. But not today. Today,
I had a feeling she was ready to punt me to the curb.
When I first arrived, I’d let myself in like I always did, dropping the
mail on the table and complaining about traffic. And even though I popped
in unannounced at least once a week to check in on her, my mother had
looked startled as she poked her head out of the kitchen with an, “AJ!
You’re here.”
“I am,” I’d agreed.
I raised an eyebrow as she came out into the living room. She was
wearing navy slacks and a frilly white blouse, an apron tied around her
waist and her hair pulled up in some fancy style I couldn’t name. No usual
Saturday night yoga pants. She looked lovely. And nervous?
Despite the odd vibes she was giving off, I kissed her flushed cheek and
proceeded to make myself comfortable in the kitchen. After a moment, she
joined me and went back to manning whatever smelled so delicious on the
stove.
 And just like that, the irritation of my week fell away.
The farmhouse was a bit of an anomaly for the area—most of the homes
were modern with clean lines. But it was my mother’s favorite style, mostly
because it reminded her of some of the best summers of her life, helping out
her grandparents on their farm in Iowa. After having my realtor scour the
market with no results, I had one built. It managed to be both rustic and
modern, with five bedrooms and a wide wraparound porch with the
requisite porch swing. My parents had lived there for five years before my
father…well, just before.
So even though he wasn’t here now, it was a place that he’d been. Little
touches of him still existed here, including the lemon tree that he’d planted
in the backyard. He hadn’t lived to see it bear fruit, but it was still his tree.
When you added all of my mother’s kitschy décor to the mix and the fact
that she was always cooking something, it became a place of refuge for me.
I liked my house, sure, but my father had never been there and never would.
Here, I wasn’t Andrew McAdams, starting tight end for the Aventura
Outlaws. I was just AJ, the youngest of my mother’s three kids. Emma lived
in Maine, so she wasn’t around that often. But when she stopped by, she
still thought I was the pesky youngest who’d always ratted her out to our
parents. I took great delight in proving her right. My brother Grant had been
a good frenemy growing up, and we’d spent a lot of time wrestling in our
backyard. I wish we could say we’d grown out of that but alas, much to my
mother’s chagrin, we had not.
When I was here, no one wanted anything from me…other than to do
my chores. Yes. I still had fucking chores. My mother had told me more
than once that she didn’t care how much money I had or if my head brushed
the doorway when I walked through it—the trash needed to be dumped and
the walkway needed to be swept.
Now that I thought about it, why did I love this place again? I squinted.
Oh yeah. It was a place where I could go when I needed to leave my
troubles behind, however temporarily. No football. No networking. No
marketing. Here I could breathe and just be.
Usually.
I eyed my mother some more. She looked like she might be wearing
makeup. It was hard to tell nowadays. Apparently, the idea was to look like
you weren’t wearing any…by wearing just enough? A former girlfriend
explained the principle to me, all the while patiently using a wand-type
thing on her already long lashes. I’d tried to make my eyes nice and wide to
indicate I was listening and interested, instead of sleeping where I stood like
a horse in his stall.
“You look like you always do. Beautiful.” I’d tried not to sound
impatient but shit, we were late. Again. And she was still in bikini
underwear and a lacy bra. “I just don’t understand how that takes a half-
hour. It doesn’t look like you did anything.”
“Exactly,” she’d said, nodding sagely as she brushed her lashes again
and I trotted off to make myself a drink with arsenic ice cubes.
“So honey, how’re things going?” My mother asked, giving the pot a
careful stir. Looked like she was trying to keep even her apron clean, which
was weird. “I’m surprised to see you here. I thought you’d be out
celebrating the win with the boys.”
She sounded like she’d just picked me up from Little League practice. I
would’ve smiled if I wasn’t busy mowing my way through a poundcake that
I’d spied under the cake cloche.
“Nah. I didn’t feel like going out.”
What exactly would I be celebrating? That they took the W without me?
It didn’t help that my backup, Keon Williams, put up some nice stats.
Nothing ground-breaking. But solid. Most of us called him Texas because
he was from Baylor University, and he was playing like he was never going
to play again, which was…well, the smart fucking thing to do. I understood.
In theory. In actuality, he was trying to replace me…which sucked big,
hairy balls.
I couldn’t help but wonder if management was starting to plan their exit
strategy on the mess that was Andrew McAdams. I was better than Texas,
sure. But was I good enough to outweigh my recent legal troubles? My
injury? How about my sexuality, which the media always had a field day
with?
Only time would tell, I guess. That was tomorrow kind of thinking.
Today, there was blueberry pound cake. It was my favorite, blueberry lemon
with a vanilla drizzle. I reached for the other half and my mother smacked
my hand with her stirring spoon. “That’s for company.”
“Hey, I make a living with these hands.” I huffed as I rubbed my injured
knuckles. “And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m company.”
 “You’re family, not company, and don’t you usually hang out with
Everett tonight?”
My best friend, Everett James, was a running back on the team. He’d
come from a small town in Georgia, and no matter how successful he got,
he was still humble. His dimpled smile, brown eyes, and air of goofy puppy
were an agent’s wet dream. That wasn’t just hyperbole. We had the same
fucking agent and yes, he played favorites. Everett liked to downplay his
engineering degree and lean into his goofy schtick, but he was smart as hell.
That would serve him well when he was done in the NFL.
“Ev is out with the guys tonight,” I informed her, making another move
on the pound cake. This time, she let me have it with a sigh.
“And you didn’t want to hang out with the guys?”
I tried to hide my grimace. The poundcake helped. I loved my
teammates, even though they were noisy and mannerless enough to make a
wolf pack stop and stare in shocked silence. But the longer I languished on
injured reserve, the more cautious they became about what they were
willing to say. No one wanted to talk about a future without football, or
what I’d do if things didn’t work out.
Their backslaps became heartier, their platitudes more general. There
was a fear in their eyes, and I understood it completely. But for a shitload of
luck, your jersey number could join mine on the IR list. Zig when you
should’ve zagged, and your ACL could be fucked, too.
“They’re probably just partying like they always do,” I said around a
mouthful of cake. “I’m kind of over it.”
“It certainly sounds like a better time than hanging out with an old
woman on a Saturday night.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Well if I find an old woman, I’ll test your theory.
Until then, I guess I’ll just have to hang out with you.”
She laughed and leaned over to ruffle my hair, which was the same ash
brown as hers. “Charmer.”
She’d always claimed I could charm just about anyone, a fact my
brother had lamented over as we were growing up. I always took great
pleasure in telling him to suck it up. I didn’t even have the dimples he relied
on—heavily. It wasn’t my fault he didn’t bother to work on his personality.
My nose twitched as my mother passed me and I finally separated her
scent from that of the food. She smelled like something flowery, like that
perfume my assistant picked out for her last birthday and insisted that I buy.
She called it her special occasion perfume and she only wore it for church
and holidays and….
Something finally gelled up there in the old brain and I wanted to smack
my forehead. No wonder she was cooking and cleaning, dressed up and
smelling good. She had a fucking date.
I sat there for a few moments, mulling that over.
Picturing her on a date with someone other than my father was a little
jarring. I mean, they’d been together for over thirty years. Some naïve part
of me—the part that didn’t like to think about things like mortality and shit
—had thought they’d be together forever. That reality went up in a puff of
smoke on a motorcycle in the rain. There was no undoing any of that. He
wasn’t coming back, and Lucas and Libby McAdams were no more. I
didn’t want her to just rattle around in this big house, lost in the memories
of better days.
But I wasn’t sure if I knew how to deal with someone else in my
father’s shoes. In his chair. In his home. In our lives. I also knew,
realistically, that it wasn’t up to me. She was obviously ready to dip her toes
in the dating pool…maybe she’d already been swimming in it and I just
didn’t know. All that was left was for me to be supportive or an absolute
dick. In the end, she was my mother and I wanted her to be happy. And if
she found a guy that made her happy, then…I guess I had to get on board.
No matter how much it hurt.
“AJ.” When I looked up, my mother’s brow was creased in concern.
“I’m worried about you. I know it’s hard not being on the field, honey, but
—”
“It’s just a preseason game,” I said with a shrug. “Nothing to get worked
up about.”
“And the DUI?”
That was like a stab to the gut, and there was no keeping the emotion off
my face. That Friday—hereafter known as Fuck, I Messed Up Friday—had
been rough on several fronts. First and foremost, it was the anniversary of
my father’s death. Then I found out that I wasn’t cleared for the upcoming
season, and they were starting Texas instead. Frustrated, I proceeded to fuck
up in PT and pushed myself way too hard. Reggie had been pissed as she
checked my knee, and informed me in no uncertain terms that I’d pushed
back my recovery.
So yeah. I went to a bar with a couple of teammates, had one too many,
and got in my car to sleep it off. I wasn’t sure how much time had passed
before a cop knocked on my window and shined God’s flashlight in my face
—had to be, I still had damage to my retinas. Things went sideways quickly
after that.
I swallowed. “He’d be so disappointed in me.”
“Oh honey, no.” She crossed the room quickly, just a whisper of noise in
her ballet flats, and reached for my hand. She squeezed it then,
unexpectedly strong for someone so small. “He would be worried about
you. Not disappointed.”
I swallowed. “You sure about that?”
“Of course. You’re a charming rascal, but you’ve never been afraid to
roll up your sleeves and work. No matter what mistakes you’ve made,
you’re going to own up to them. That’s not easy, and I’m proud of you.”
She paused. “And I know he would be, too.”
I worried about that…probably more than I should. I always tried to
keep in mind what he would do and how he’d do it. He’d fucking loved life
—every part of it. Every time I got down in the dumps or started
complaining too much, I reminded myself of how much he would’ve given
for another day. I couldn’t do anything less than live this shit to the fullest.
And I was glad my mother was doing the same.
“So where’s Brooks?” She asked as she went over to the cupboards. She
opened one of the doors and stared into the perfectly organized space, her
hand still resting on the bar handle. “He working late tonight?”
“Something like that,” I said evasively.
Probably. Since I hadn’t spoken to or seen him in over a month, I would
be the last to know. I grimaced at the thought of telling her that we’d broken
up—the latest in a long line of relationships gone the way of the dodo. My
mother claimed that I only hooked up with people that I knew weren’t right
for me, and there was nothing Libby McAdams liked better than being
right.
“He never comes with you to Sunday brunch anymore,” she said with a
little laugh. “I’m starting to take it personally.”
 I laughed a little too heartily. “You know Brooks,” I said casually.
“Busy, busy, busy.”
She made a noise as she found the bowls she was looking for—a heavy
porcelain set she’d gotten from her mother—and pulled them down
carefully.
“Another one bites the dust, huh?” She shook her head. “Grant owes me
a hundred bucks.”
I slouched in my chair as I protested, “It wasn’t my fault this time.”
“I never said it was.” She arched a brow. “But I did tell you it wasn’t
going to work.”
Fuck, she did. She’d thought that Brooks was using me from the
beginning—I’d heard her and my brother discussing it on the patio like a
couple of gossipy old women. Those bastards had even taken the time to
make sweet tea. I’d been determined to prove them wrong. Maybe that’s
why we lasted as long as we did.
“So. You going to tell me what happened?” She asked as she crossed the
room and set the bowls on the counter. She pinned me with a sympathetic
gaze, clearly ready to have a heart-to-heart.
I shrugged. “We got busy. Drifted apart.”
Her face told me she knew there was more to that story, but she didn’t
call me on it.
Brooks and I had made it four months which, admittedly, was a lifetime
for me. But to be perfectly honest, it never felt right. Never felt like what
my mom and dad had before he passed. And the less right it felt, the harder
I worked to keep it. At least, I had right up until I caught him giving
someone else a blowjob in a club bathroom.
I still wasn’t sure what angered me the most—that Brooks had cheated
or that he hadn’t seemed to feel all that guilty about it. He’d offered to let
me join, an offer that made his playmate splutter with surprise and
embarrassment. I had a feeling the poor guy thought things were a little
more serious than Brooks did. Easy come, easy go.
I stood and carried my plate to the sink. “Sorry I dropped in like this,
but I knew you’d make time for your favorite child.”
She snorted. “Let’s go with that.”
“Ignored. And now I’m going to get out of your hair so you can finish
getting ready for your date.”
 “My…I’m not…well, then.” Her eyes widened as her mouth opened
and closed a few times. “You’re…you’re not upset?”
“No,” I said honestly. “It’s going to take some getting used to, though.”
She ran a nervous hand over her hair. “Well, luckily, you have time.
We’re not rushing into anything….”
“None of my business,” I said. “I trust your judgment. And by the way,
Dad would be proud of you, too.”
“Oh.” She pressed her hands to her eyes and took a deep breath. “For
God’s sakes, I just did my makeup. Stop it, already.”
I chuckled, giving her a big hug, careful not to wrinkle her blouse.
When she was nice and relaxed, her head on my chest, her hand patting my
back like she’d done when I was little, I lowered the boom. “So who is this
guy?”
She gasped as she smacked my chest and pulled back. “I thought you
said you trust my judgment and it’s none of your business.”
“About how your relationship goes, yes. But I think Emmie, Grant, and
I should vet this guy…we need to talk to ’im. Let him know what’s up.” I
bounced on my toes. “He deserves fair warning about what we’ll do to his
balls if he even thinks about looking at you wrong—”
“Andrew Jason McAdams.” She looked like she was hiding her
amusement. “I do believe that’s your cue to leave.”
She started towing me toward the front door and that didn’t work out so
well…so she went around behind me and started pushing. She was about
half my size and didn’t even reach my shoulder, but she was doing a pretty
good job of it.
“So you’re not going to tell me who he is?”
“I’ll introduce you guys when the time is right,” she puffed. “And when
I’m sure he won’t go running for the hills after being confronted with my
six foot four boys.”
“Let the record show that Grant is only six feet,” I pointed out as she
manhandled me into the foyer. Mom-strength was unreal. “And what if this
guy is a serial killer? We won’t even know which direction to point the
police. All I’ll be able to tell them is that when I left, she was making an
awesome pot roast and wearing man trap clothes—”
“I wear this outfit to church, you heathen,” she said, her eyes twinkling
in amusement. “Now get out. I don’t need you scaring him off by being all
big and intimidating.”
I reluctantly headed out on the porch and as I turned, another question
all cued up on my lips, she shut the door in my face. No matter. I stuck my
face to the glass insert like a pucker doll. “So he’s like, small?”
She stuck out her tongue and I laughed.

I waited until I was in the car with the engine running to whip out my
phone. I ignored a text from Everett inviting me to Warner’s after-party and
called my brother. Grant answered on the second ring, sounding a bit
harried. “Hey, what’s up?”
“Nothing much,” I said jovially. “How’re you?”
“Good.”
“And Kim?”
“Kim’s fine,” he said slowly. “Why do you ask?”
I understood his confusion. We were close, but in more of an I know
you’re there when I need you kind of way. We were both busy, he even
more so with the restaurant and his family. Small kids had a way of sucking
up free time, and in-season, my schedule could get crazy. We made a point
to get together at least once a week but rarely called each other just to chat.
“I ask because she’s your wife and I’m invested in her well-being,” I
said starchily. “How’re things going at the restaurant?”
“Do you want to just spit it out or draw this out?” He demanded. “I have
laundry in the dryer.”
“Well, pardon me for interrupting your fluff and fold party. I just wanted
to check in on my only brother and his family.” I huffed. “I love you guys.”
“Good to hear,” he said dryly.
“So.” I picked at a loose thread on my pants. “How’re things?”
“I’m so glad you’re interested in the minutia of our daily life,” he
drawled. “So here goes. Kim doesn’t think I’m helping out enough with the
household chores, so I’ve taken over the laundry completely.”
My eyes widened because I loved my nephews, but damn could those
kids generate a lot of dirty clothes. It was like a horrible magic trick that
kept going even after you killed the magician. “She does work hard. She
could probably use the help.”
Grant grunted. “Which is why I’m up to my elbows in muddy clothes.
Who signed these kids up for football camp again, AJ?”
I cleared my throat because while Uncle AJ might’ve found the league,
signed them up, and got them hyped about it, he wasn’t doin’ no stinkin’
laundry. “I dunno. I think it was Emmie’s idea.”
“Our sister, the accountant, with two left feet? The one who asked when
the Cincinnati Bears were playing?”
I bit back a grin. Pete, her husband, was a football fanatic and a huge
fan of mine. When they were dating, Emma had asked me for a crash
course on football so she could impress him. Flustered and pretty sure she
was sitting across from the man of her dreams, she’d jumbled and bumbled
everything together, which just made him fall more in love with her. When
he told us some of the things she’d said on their first date, we’d howled. We
did our best never to let her forget them. I’d even worked some of that shit
into my wedding toast.
Told you I was a pesky younger brother.
“Yes, that’s the one,” I confirmed. “You know Emmie and football.”
“Mhmm,” he said suspiciously. “Anyway, Liam is losing a tooth and
Luke is pretty jealous, especially since he knows the tooth fairy is coming.
They both like their teacher this year, which was expected since she’s a big
softy who uses a good behavior sticker system liberally.”
“Uh-huh.” I was already bored out of my mind. “That’s cool.”
“Isn’t it? Let’s see, what else? Liam is going through a robot phase right
now, and he’s punctuating pretty much every sentence with the phrase beep
beep.” Grant chuckled. “In his mind, he thinks he’s emulating a robot, but
he sounds more like a dump truck backing up.”
“Uh-huh.”
He launched into a story about the twins leaving their belongings at
school, embellishing every detail until I wanted to scream. Nothing was
worth this. Nothing. “I swear that classroom is like the Bermuda Triangle.
So I said okay, you’re not getting any new lunchboxes until you bring the
old ones back—”
“Holy fuck, you got me.”
Grant made a victorious noise. “So you’ll cut the bullshit?”
 “Yeah, whatever,” I said crossly. “But I do love you guys, you know.”
“I know that.” He sounded amused. “Now get to it.”
I paused for dramatic effect. “Mom is dating someone.”
“What?”
“Yeah. Exactly. I don’t know who or for how long.”
“Who?” Grant sounded flabbergasted. “And how long has this been
going on?”
“What did I just say?” I said exasperatedly. “You’re going to have to be
a lot sharper if we’re going to do this stakeout.”
“Stakeout,” he practically yelled.
I shushed him frantically. “For God’s sakes, Grant. Your first
assignment is to watch a fuckin’ spy movie. Take good notes.”
“I’m not spying on my own mother.”
“We can’t just have her going out with anybody. We have to check this
guy out. You know, make sure he has Mom’s best interest at heart.”
“We have brunch tomorrow. And you’re coming,” he said before I could
offer an excuse. I shut my mouth. “Maybe we can suss out some details
then. You know, before we break out the spy goggles.”
“We’d use binoculars. You moron.” I huffed out a breath. “I knew I
should’ve called Emmie instead.”
He chuckled. “I just think this is the better route to go before we get all
Mission Impossible in Mom’s rose bushes. Wait, hang on.” I heard the
murmur of a female’s voice in the background and Grant called, “No, I did
the load of darks, babe. The towels are still in the hamper.”
I couldn’t help but smile at their domesticity. They’d met when Kim had
been assigned his tutor in college, and they’d been together ever since.
Well, except for a dark two months when they broke up after graduation and
tried dipping their toes in the dating pool. They quickly found out what
most singles already know—the dating pool is more of a shitty slip and
slide.
“You’re such a good hubby,” I teased.
“Shut up.” He wasn’t the least bit offended, cloaked in the confidence of
a man who knew he had it good. “And Kim thinks we should plant a baby
monitor and see how the date is going…which lets me know that I’m now
surrounded by madness.”
 “Your wife is a fuckin’ genius.” I paused. “Except I don’t want to see or
hear anything that could scar me for life. Tell her we’ll meet for coffee and
hammer out a good plan—”
“You’ll do no such thing. The two of you are going to wind up in jail for
familial espionage.”
“That’s not a thing,” I shot back. “And how would they even find out
—”
“I’d tell them.”
“Fuckin’ snitch,” I grumbled.
He laughed. “So where’s Brooks? I haven’t seen much of him lately.”
Wow. My family was batting a hundred on picking topics I didn’t want
to fucking discuss. “Busy. You know Brooks.”
He sighed. “Fuck. I owe Mom fifty bucks.”
I scowled. “You people are unbelievable. And she said it was a
hundred.”
“Double fuck. I was hoping she didn’t remember the amount.” He
cursed again. “Well, I’d feel bad about betting on my brother’s relationship
—”
“As any decent person should—”
“But we all knew it wasn’t going to last.”
“Thanks for the encouragement.”
“So if you’re not going out with Brooks, what are you doing tonight?
And don’t say going home,” he added before I could even open my mouth.
“You’ve been a fucking hermit lately.”
Well, forgive me for needing to work through some shit quietly. I’d
trained hard this summer, worked my ass off in PT, and I still didn’t get my
spot back. It was hard to be the good- time guy when you were feeling
low…hell, I’d need a stepladder to get up to low.
“I have my reasons for that,” I finally said.
“Well, I know it can’t be about Brooks because as we’ve established,
that shit wasn’t real. So it has to be about your knee.”
Leave it to Grant to cut right to the heart of things. “Maybe,” I admitted.
“Your injury is all but healed. This is just a temporary bump in the road.
You know that.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
 “There’s a reason they call you Allstate, right? Every time you catch a
fucking pass, the ball is in good hands. They need you out there.” I could
hear the smile in his voice. “Hell, I need you out there so I can make good
on some of these fucking bets. Kim already told me she won’t love me
without kneecaps.”
I laughed. “Who could blame her?”
It felt good to joke about it. I rolled my shoulders and winced at how
tight the muscles felt there. Guess I was more stressed than I thought. It was
just all too easy for one game to turn into two and then slide into three.
Before you knew it, I’d be traded. Or cut. I was starting to look less like
Allstate and more like an insurance company that won’t answer the phone
after you get rear-ended.
“I guess I’m just worried,” I admitted.
“Because they won one preseason game? Sorry they couldn’t keep
losing until you got cleared by medical,” he said exaggeratedly. “You’re
going to keep conditioning and training and you’re coming off the IR list.”
“Or Texas will keep doing his thing out there.”
“Possibly,” he agreed, which was part comforting, part annoying. I liked
that he wasn’t going to bullshit me, but fuck, where was the love? He
chuckled at my silence. “Now stop channeling your inner hermit and go out
with the guys.”
“How do you know—”
“Because they won. And the Outlaws don’t win shit without partying
about it.”
“Ev texted me earlier,” I admitted begrudgingly. “They’re at Warner’s
place.”
“I knew it,” he crowed.
“Maybe you could come with me.”
“To an Outlaws’ party?” He practically squeaked. “You serious right
now? And what would I tell Kim, exactly? Hey honey, I need you to finish
cooking dinner, clean up all those dishes, and handle bath time and bedtime
with the boys so I can head out to a party with my brother. And yes, there
will be models and actresses there.”
I heard Kim talking in the background but I couldn’t quite make out the
words. “What did she say?”
“She said I could go.”
 “See? You want me to pick you up or—”
“You know, sometimes I forget how long it’s been since you and Joy
were divorced,” Grant said dryly. “Clearly you’ve wiped all the finer
nuances of marriage from your mind. Like a prisoner of war.”
“Which means….”
“It means I’d better go before she removes the Waterford vase from the
pedestal in the foyer and replaces it with my head,” he said dryly. “Now git.
I have at least five more loads of laundry to get through.”
“Fine,” I said with a sigh. “By the way, I use a laundry service. I’d be
happy to pay for—”
“You know, AJ, sometimes just talking to you is enough.” His voice was
unexpectedly warm for two guys who could sometimes get into an
argument over which dip was the best. “We don’t need your money to love
you.”
“I know that.”
“Then act like it.” He paused. “Besides, Kim would notice and kick my
ass.”
I didn’t blame him for hanging up on me when I wouldn’t stop
laughing. But the follow-up fuck you text message was a bit much. I grinned
as I responded with a middle finger emoji. I knew they had bad times like
everyone else, but they were buttressed by so much good. Truthfully, there
was nothing Grant loved better than being at home with his family, and an
Outlaw party couldn’t compare.
Growing up with parents that had a “dear God get a room” marriage, I’d
always wanted that. Assumed I’d find that kind of love. When had I stopped
looking?
Maybe after my divorce. My ill-advised marriage to my high school
sweetheart had mostly been a “fuck-you, we know what we’re doing” to our
parents and hadn’t lasted all that long. My more cynical friends swore Joy
was trying to get her hooks in me before I got drafted, but I’d known better.
We just weren’t right for each other. Getting married so young, we were
bound to grow as we changed and learned more about ourselves. If you’re
lucky and put in the work, you grow together. Joy and I had been better at
growing apart.
Better yet, maybe I’d stopped looking sometime after my dad passed.
Watching my mother try to recover and come up with some semblance of
life hurt down to my bones. And neither Grant nor I could make it better.
The only person who could make things better was interned at Pineview
Cemetery. Why would I look to find a love like that? Why would anyone
want to hurt like that?
I was getting melancholy as shit being alone with my thoughts. Grant
was right and I needed to get out. I texted Everett that I was on the way to
Warner’s place before I could change my mind, and tossed my phone in the
cupholder.
Who knows? Maybe I’d even have fun.
2
 ANDREW

I didn’t blame Fun for leaving the building. But tossing a match over his
shoulder on the way out? Rude.
The setting certainly wasn’t the problem. Warner’s penthouse was
incredible. As I sat on a modular white couch on the rooftop deck, Miami
stretched in front of me as far as the eye could see, awash in lights and
activity. It looked like you could reach out and grab handfuls of the sky.
Warner’s girlfriend, a professional decorator, had flexed her muscles up
here with cozy deck furniture. There was a bar, a professional grill and
pizza oven, and a lap pool on the other side. The music was poppin’ and
everybody was in a good mood, still running off a postgame high.
But a party is only as good as the people—also the food, don’t forget
the fucking food—and there were several people here I was actively trying
to avoid. Top on the list was Brooks. Apparently, Warner hadn’t gotten the
memo that my cheating ex was exactly that.
He was doing his thing on the dance floor and didn’t look in my
direction, not once, which let me know that he knew exactly where I was
sitting. He was also wearing his favorite jeans, the ones with the strategic
rips. I snorted as he did a little ass-shaking move. I hoped none of that was
for my benefit. I had better things to do than watch Brooks drop it like it
was lukewarm.
I headed for the bar. The bartender’s gaze was on me the entire way
there, and he greeted me before I could even plunk my butt down on a stool.
“What can I get you, sugar? And please say my number.”
 I chuckled lightly. “Surprise me.”
It seemed like only a few seconds before he was back with something
that looked like chocolate with whipped cream on top. “Here you are.”
I looked at him over the glass because I knew exactly what he’d made
me, and it wasn’t what I’d had in mind. But I could be a good sport. I kept
my gaze trained on his as I licked off some of the whipped cream and
tossed the drink back. It was so sweet it made my teeth ache.
I slid the glass back his way with a little grin. “Thanks for the blowjob.”
He laughed. “My pleasure.” Someone down the bar called out for a
drink, and he sent me a wink. “If you need another, ask for Rex.”
“Shameless,” someone muttered to my right as he plunked down on a
bar stool.
I closed my eyes briefly and prayed for patience. I didn’t even need to
turn to verify who it was. His distinct scent gave him away—some shampoo
he used that smelled like papaya. “Should I even ask what you’re doing
here?”
Brooks huffed. “Who do you think Warner called to plan the party?”
Right. Dating someone on the team had its advantages, after all. We
liked to think of ourselves as a family, and that extended to our significant
others. If you could throw someone a little business, you did. That was just
the way we rolled. And Brooks had milked those connections for all they
were worth.
Well, that was certainly over. I didn’t want to put a crimp in his
business, but I didn’t want to see him at every Outlaws’ function from now
on either.
“Can you at least look at me?” He demanded. “I think I’m owed that
much.”
I turned to face him with a sigh. Objectively, he was still model pretty—
shiny blond hair and blue eyes that he made even bluer with contacts. And
yes, he was the same guy that had messaged me on Instagram with a picture
that made me nearly drop my phone, but today, I felt nothing. Seeing him
on his knees in a club bathroom blowing some random guy had effectively
killed every iota of affection or attraction I’d ever had for him.
I don’t know what he was expecting but he looked disappointed. I
sympathized. It was probably a crushing blow to find out you can’t actually
kill someone with your beauty.
 “Better?” I asked drolly.
“You blocked my number,” he said, flashing those hurt baby blues that
usually made me melt a little.
Nothing. Shit, maybe I’d better make sure I wasn’t dead. I glanced at
my smartwatch to make sure I was still registering a pulse.
I didn’t bother with subterfuge. “Some people would take that as a
hint.”
“I know you better than that.”
Lord. My right eye started to twitch as I prayed for patience. “Brooks.
At the risk of being repetitive, let’s try this again. What are you doing
here?”
“I thought we could catch up. We were friends once, weren’t we?”
Not especially. I didn’t see a reason to be hurtful…or unleash Brooks’
dramatic side, which was always just a few centimeters under the surface,
lurking, waiting for any reason to emerge and throw glitter in your eyes. “I
guess.”
“Okay, then. Friend.” He propped his chin on his hand. “How’re
things?”
Well, let’s see. I tore my ACL which effectively stopped my career in its
tracks. I was supposed to start this season, but PT said no. I think
management is looking for a way to get rid of me, and my replacement is
already doing amazing things on the field. I’m also facing felony charges of
DUI. Oh, and I’m sitting here with you. So…you know. Everything is
fucktastic.
“Good,” I said shortly. “Good drink. Good talk. Good day.”
He grabbed my wrist and I allowed him to pull me back down. “For
fuck’s sake, it won’t kill you to sit with me for a few minutes. You here
alone?”
“Actually…no,” I said slowly, because lying was a viable option to get
out of uncomfortable situations and I wasn’t above doing it. “I’m seeing
someone. It’s still pretty new.”
“Really?” Brooks sounded skeptical. “I hadn’t heard.”
“Why would you?” I asked reasonably.
“Well, where is he? None of your friends mentioned that you were
dating someone.” His eyes flashed in the way they did when he wasn’t
getting his way.
 I was very familiar with that look. It was the same look he’d given me
before he sideswiped a mailbox with my Lexus during an argument. He
maintained it was an accident but I had my doubts.
“Is there a reason you’re hiding him?” He demanded.
“Hiding him? Don’t be so dramatic,” I said smoothly. “He’s a private
person, and he hates a fuss. And I did invite him, but he had to work.”
“That’s too bad. I would’ve loved to meet him.” It was clear from his
tone that he didn’t believe a word coming out of my mouth. “Maybe we
should all have coffee sometime.”
“That would be nice.”
“Maybe even brunch.”
I could hear the challenge in his voice. My mouth quirked. He should
know me better than that by now. Andrew McAdams didn’t back down
from a challenge—not on the field and not in real life. Not even when I was
blowing so much smoke that someone should pull a fire alarm. “Sounds
good.”
“For God’s sakes.” Brooks scowled at me. “Can we stop playing games,
please? Let’s just address the elephant in the room. You want me and I want
you back.”
Oh, so sad. The elephant in the room was delusional. Now how to tell
him that I didn’t want him back and he should feel free to head back to the
grasslands. “Look—”
“Baby, I miss you.”
I blinked. Since when? Last I heard, he was dating some emo-singer,
Xanthe, whose real name was Scott. “Yeah? And why’s that?”
As Brooks struggled for a good answer, I stared at him in confusion. I
wasn’t sure the words I miss you had ever left his mouth before…at least,
not about me. Not even my eight-week jaunt at training camp made him
utter those words.
From the look on Brooks’ face, his inner quest wasn’t going well. I had
to give him credit—at least he didn’t try the word love. I’d hate to leave a
tight-end-shaped hole in Warner’s French doors.
“I feel the way I feel,” he finally said. “I shouldn’t have to explain it.”
I stared at him for a few moments, head tilted like he was a puzzle I just
couldn’t figure out. And then I found the pieces I’d lost under the table.
“You got dumped.”
 “Xanthe did not dump me, thank you very much,” he snapped. “We
mutually decided to go our separate ways.”
“Scott bounced your ass to the curb like a rubber ball. You cheated on
him, didn’t you?”
His cheeks colored as he glared at me. “If you’re just going to be
insulting, this is pointless.”
“Holy shit,” I blurted. “I didn’t really believe it. You actually…you
know what? Never mind. It’s none of my business.”
Brooks leaned in closer so that our shoulders touched, his eyes large and
languid on mine. I wasn’t sure how he worked those things the way he did,
but they were his best weapon. A firm, round ass served as his backup
weapon, like secondary artillery in the president’s limo.
His hand landed on my thigh, and I had to admit it was tempting. Just
for a few seconds. I had no excuse except sometimes horny is as horny
does. I hadn’t had sex since we’d broken up three months ago. Not because
I was just so heartbroken, but it just seemed like too much trouble. This
would be easy. Like…like putting on some of my go-to clothes that always
fit just right.
I sighed exasperatedly at my own thoughts. Clearly, there was a reason
Hallmark had never called me. My romance game was whack and I was
going to die alone, right after someone slapped me for telling him earnestly
that baby, fucking you is like slipping into a pair of my oldest jeans.
“As I said, I’m off the market,” I said lightly. “Sorry.”
“You put up the good fight, but I think we both know how this night
ends,” he said with a wicked little smile. “Don’t worry. I’m sure your
boyfriend won’t mind.”
“Yeah.” A voice came from behind us. “I rather think I would.”
3
 ANDREW

B eing a good player meant adjusting on and off the field, sometimes at
the drop of a hat. The player who ran the play no matter what his
defenders did wound up on his back, wondering what the fuck happened
and if his spleen was back near the ten-yard line. So I was used to thinking
on my feet. But at that moment, I could only blink at my lie come to life as
Jesse Fox slid onto the stool to the left of me.
He leaned forward, bracing both elbows on the granite bar top. He was
on the shorter side and slender—or maybe my perception was just skewed
working with guys who could bench press a washing machine. His ass was
neither compact nor slender, just the way I liked it. You could tell there was
a lot of strength in that compact body.
Or maybe you couldn’t tell, and I’d just spent a lot of time imagining
Jesse Fox naked.
His dark hair was longer than the last time I’d seen him. I couldn’t tell if
it was messy on purpose or styled to look that way, but I liked it. He was
wearing dark jeans that hugged his…well, everything just right, and a pale
blue vee neck shirt that looked amazing against his creamy skin.
Suddenly, the proposition of going home alone didn’t seem quite as
attractive.
I’d met him at a charity function a few years ago, and let’s just say I’d
never been turned down so fast. He came to the same charity event every
year, and our relationship had progressed to flirty casual.
 Go out with me. I kept asking even though I knew what he’d say. He
upheld his end of our unspoken bargain and kept saying it. Nope. My last
nope had come with a little smile, though. Then he’d looked irritated with
himself, as if he couldn’t believe he’d given me that much. It was fucked up
and ironic beyond belief. The only guy that truly intrigued me in years
wasn’t even remotely interested.
Or was he?
I eventually managed an erudite little, “Hey.”
Those dark green eyes danced with mischief as he leaned over and
brushed a kiss over my scruffy cheek. “Sorry I’m late.” He turned to an
extremely pouty Brooks and held out his hand. “Jesse. Nice to meet you.”
Brooks frowned as he shook his hand, and it looked like he was
gripping a little harder than necessary. “Yeah,” he said a beat later than was
polite. “It’s a real kick.”
My brain finally made the necessary readjustments to reenter the
atmosphere safely. “Sweetheart.” The word felt strange on my lips. I wasn’t
a sweetheart kind of guy. “I thought you couldn’t make it.”
“I shuffled some things around and I was able to get off work.”
“Aren’t we lucky?” Brooks murmured.
Rex came back by just then and we all proceeded to order drinks. He
clearly had a nose for drama—he was so busy trying to eavesdrop on our
small talk that he nearly dropped a liquor bottle. I could save him the
trouble. Our small talk was dry. Super dry. In fact, I was pretty sure
someone had doused our conversation in clinical deodorant.
Brooks did his part by setting a world record for frowning, while Jesse
threw himself into the supporting role of fake boyfriend nicely. He sat so
close to me that his thigh pressed up against mine, and I didn’t mind that
shit at all. He also smelled good. Really good. I couldn’t identify the scent,
but it made him smell like summer—something tropical and beachy. If
there wasn’t a palm tree on the label of whatever he’d used, I’d give up my
Superbowl ring.
“So where did you two meet?” Brooks asked suspiciously.
“At a charity event for cancer,” Jesse said smoothly.
Brooks looked Jesse up and down carefully. Insultingly. “So what, you
play sports or something? I’ve never heard of you.”
 “Actually, I’m a community center outreach coordinator.” Jesse looked
amused. “But aren’t you sweet?”
I hid my smile in my drink. I knew Jesse could hold his own—I’d seen
him put people in their place without them even realizing that he had. So I
could just sit back and enjoy the show.
The charity event he’d referred to was yearly and went under the
heading of “must-attend” for the team. Our GM’s wife and mother had
breast cancer, so the cause was personal to him. And when Barnes said
something was mandatory, I trotted out my tux and left an hour early, just in
case.
Jesse had been seated next to me at dinner, a guest of Trace King who
was a fullback for the Raptors. There had been a lot of tension between
them that night. Trace spent the night flirting with the waitstaff while Jesse
networked with Dare Wakefield, an affluent hedge fund guy who was
seated across the table. By the time dinner was served, Jesse secured a one-
time pledge. By the time the deconstructed cheesecake arrived, he’d turned
that pledge annual.
Watching Jesse work the usually recalcitrant Wakefield with ease, I was
intrigued. I wanted to get to know him. When he leaned over the table to
reach for Wakefield’s business card, I got a better look at that ass and I
wanted to get to know his body, too. My dick came to life in a way that
made me scoot closer to the table.
My intrigue segued into determination.
Too bad he’d been very interested in ignoring me. Like expert-level
ignoring. Like who’s that hitting on me, I don’t see anyone, must be a horny
ghost ignoring.
Before they left, I’d pulled King aside and asked for Jesse’s number. I
couldn’t have been more surprised when he practically got up in my face.
“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, practically vibrating with anger. “And
I’d better not see you talking to him again.”
Or what hovered on the tip of my tongue. I went with a milder, “Why’s
that?”
“Because I said so.”
“What are you, five?”
“Look. Just…just don’t. Okay?” He rubbed a hand over his closely
shorn hair. He was known for having his barber shave things into his do,
and he had his jersey number on one side and a snarling tiger on the other.
“He’s off-limits, bro. And I need you to respect that.”
“What am I respecting, exactly?”
My brow furrowed as I tried to connect some weird-as-fuck dots.
Because King was routinely in the news with women, so the vibe I was
getting had to be wrong. It took me a minute to stop being thick.
I blinked. “Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“So you’re bise—”
“I’m gay,” he hissed. “Keep your fucking voice down.”
“How was I supposed to know?” I snapped. “Don’t be a dick.”
“You’re the only dick here,” he shot back. “Why would you try to mess
up a good thing?’
“Can’t be that good if no one knows about it,” I said before I could
think better of it, and he growled.
He got even closer, but he knew better than to touch me. I could admit
that while I was generally laid-back, I was still a football player with
reserves of aggression. That aggression fed on aggression, whether we were
on the field or not.
I’d like to say I didn’t understand why he was keeping his relationship
with Jesse a secret. That anything worth having was worth standing up for.
That more of us should come out and force them to acknowledge we were
here. We were your doctors, your neighbors, your coworkers, your
firefighters. And our sexuality didn’t make a damn bit of difference in how
we did our jobs.
But.
I could understand why he didn’t want that smoke. After several years
of taking that smoke up the nostrils, I had days when I wished I’d never
said anything at all. I’d lost friends. Endorsement deals. A homophobic
second cousin who lived in the Bible belt…okay, no one gave a shit about
Gerald. But for every supportive teammate, there was another who would
rather I never came back on the field. A reporter had once labeled us the
“rainbow team” in an article and Randy Carol, one of our defensive tackles,
had nearly lost his shit. So I could understand why King wanted to keep his
relationship quiet.
 A year later, I saw that King had gotten engaged to some pro tennis
player. She seemed to languish at the bottom of the rankings but made
People’s most beautiful list year after year. I was sad that King had caved to
the pressure. Sadder for Jesse because I knew breaking up sucked. Probably
sucked more when your ex’s new relationship was splashed over social
media…more still when Elle magazine dubbed their wedding the event of
the year.
But King fucking up meant that Jesse was a free agent.
I harassed my agent until he got Jesse’s number for me. When I called,
Jesse informed me that he was done with ballplayers. So. Yeah. Thanks,
King. You gotta love it when one asshole ruins it for everyone.
Jesse nudged my thigh with his. “Isn’t that right, AJ?”
I didn’t need the nudge—his usage of my nickname alone jerked me
right out of the past, and I blinked at him. I wasn’t sure he’d ever used it
before, like that would help keep distance between us.
“Um, yeah,” I agreed without any knowledge of what I was agreeing to.
No one looked at me amiss, so I guessed I hadn’t agreed to anything crazy.
Remind me not to sit next to Jesse in a police interrogation. You heard
him, folks. He said, “Um, yeah.” That’s all the confession we need. Lock his
ass up.
Jesse kept a hand on my arm as he chatted with Rex, and I already
missed his regard. Luckily, looking at his profile was no hardship. I liked
that he didn’t seem to care or notice how attractive he was. His dark, messy
hair would probably have trouble picking a brush out of a lineup. In a world
gone nuts on filters and retouching, his careless beauty was hard to look
away from.
I stared some more. He had a cute nose that was a little upturned at the
end. And long lashes that were dark and spiky. He also had a freckle under
his left eye that I hadn’t seen before. I wondered what else I’d missed.
Realizing he and Rex were now looking at me expectantly, I sat up
straighter. Apparently what I’d missed was the freaking conversation.
Christ. Couldn’t a man replenish his spank bank in peace?
“What now?” I asked in irritation.
His lips tilted. “Rex here wants to know if you’ll sign a jersey for his
sister, who is a big fan. And in response to that lovely compliment, you
stared at him blankly and then barked what now.”
 I laughed, embarrassed, wondering if I’d ever get used to people
fanning out right to my face. “Sorry. Yeah, sure. Just give me her
information and I’ll make sure that she gets it.”
“Told ya.” Jesse sent a beaming Rex a wink. “My honey never likes to
disappoint a fan.”
I barely held in a guffaw. Granted, I didn’t know him all that well, but
pet names and endearments didn’t seem like Jesse’s style. “You know your
honey.”
I ignored Brooks’ mutter on my other side. I didn’t catch all the words,
but he distinctly made a reference to retching. I smothered a grin. Hadn’t he
heard? The ability to make singles retch from your love is couple goals.
Clearly, we were doing something right.
A few minutes later, Jesse slid off his stool and stood. I tried not to let
disappointment set in. I’d always liked talking to him, but he was as stingy
with his company as he was with giving out personal information. He gave
a long stretch, causing his shirt to ride up. I didn’t even pretend to look
away. He was mine, wasn’t he? Even if it was fake.
“I need a smoke,” he said, patting his pockets.
“You know I hate it when you do that,” I said, as if I had any say in
what Jesse did or did not do.
“Just a quick one. This was nice though, wasn’t it?” He walked around
me and leaned in close to Brooks. His voice was low and measured but I
heard him with no trouble. “If I hear about you hitting on my boyfriend
again, we’re going to have a conversation that’s not so nice. Understood?”
Brooks jerked his head in affirmation, even though he looked like he
wanted to strangle someone. “Whatever. I was just throwing him a bone for
old time’s sake anyway.”
“Well, this pooch is taken care of. Keep your bones to yourself.”
Jesse probably didn’t even come up to my shoulder, but I could
certainly do worse for a bodyguard. I mean, I always knew there was a
reason they’d used Lhasa Apsos to guard monasteries. I pictured his
expression if I even dared to relay that analogy, and swallowed down a
laugh.
He sauntered off, and I was left alone with my thoughts. Most of those
thoughts centered around whether or not I should follow. He’d been pretty
clear about things last time we’d spoken. But that was then and this was
now.
If I didn’t think he was interested, I wouldn’t even be thinking about it.
But he was. I could tell. I certainly hadn’t gotten to where I’d gotten in life
by being afraid and not taking any chances. Gretzky had the right of it—
you did miss all the shots you didn’t take. And yes, I was fully aware that
chasing after someone who tied me up in knots was a bad idea.
Luckily, I loved bad ideas and bad ideas sure as fuck loved me.
I nodded goodbye to a brooding Brooks before heading in the direction
Jesse had disappeared.
4
 ANDREW

I found him on the balcony off the den, leaning against the wall, a cigarette
dangling from his fingers, a can of soda in his other hand. My nose
wrinkled instinctually, preparing for cigarette smoke that I didn’t smell.
And then I realized it wasn’t lit.
He didn’t glance my way until I was standing in front of him. Then he
just raised an eyebrow. Our size difference struck me anew. Jesse had such a
self-assured personality that it was easy to forget that he was barely five
eight or nine. Considering his ex, King, topped even my height by a couple
of inches, I wondered how Jesse had even managed to take him. Or maybe I
was an assuming asshole. Maybe Jesse was a top.
The thought alone got me hard as fuck. When you were my size and
height, guys always assumed I was a top…and not just a top, but the kind
who would dominate and throw them around. I always considered myself
vers, and I hadn’t been dicked down right in a long fucking time.
I cleared my throat and made a herculean effort to redirect my thoughts.
“So what are you doing here?”
“I know Warner’s girlfriend, Lacey. She donates stuff sometimes down
at the center and she invited me along.”
“You don’t party,” I accused.
“Maybe not,” he said with a shrug. “I do, however, network.”
“Sounds about right.” I took the cigarette from his fingers and dropped
it in his mostly empty can of Coke. “Nasty habit, that.”
 “I quit years ago.” A sheepish smile curved his mouth. “I still like the
smell, though.”
“That makes one of us.”
“I guess it’s a good thing that I don’t care what you like.” He set the can
on the balcony ledge and folded his arms. “If I did, I’d say you have
horrible taste in men.”
“I’m attracted to you, though, so….”
He chuckled. “I believe the words you’re looking for are ‘thank you,
Jesse, for saving my ungrateful ass.’ Loverboy seemed like the type to
make a scene.”
“Thank you, dear Jesse,” I said exaggeratedly. When he continued to
look at me, eyebrows raised, it took me a second to catch on. I rolled my
eyes. “For saving my ungrateful ass.”
“Welcome.” His teeth were a flash of white in the darkness. “What did
you ever see in that guy? Were you in love or something?”
It was clear from his tone how stupid he thought that would be.
“No,” I admitted. “But things were okay when we were together. I just
thought that…I don’t know. Given time and effort, maybe we could’ve done
alright.”
He snorted. “Romantic.”
“I do my best.”
“Well, I don’t know how to break this to you. But you deserve more
than just alright.” He colored, suddenly very interested in looking at the
view of downtown Miami. “I didn’t mean that how it sounded.”
Didn’t you? I decided to let him off the hook, mostly because he looked
like he was ready to take a header off Warner’s balcony to keep from
admitting he liked me even a little bit.
“Sounds like you want to ride my dick, actually.” I waggled my
eyebrows. “You wanna get out of here?”
“I do not, in fact,” he said crisply. “So maybe you can try that tired line
with one of your ball bunnies upstairs.”
I hid a grin. “You sound jealous.” He gave me a stop the madness look
that made me chuckle. “You’re the only one I want to go home with.”
“Is that so?”
I didn’t trust that sweet tone. Not one little bit. “It is.”
 He smiled guilelessly even as he tugged on my forearm. The sight of
those slender, delicate fingers on my skin had me so distracted that I didn’t
know what he was doing until he flipped my arm over. Pink writing glared
up at me and I gave him a sheepish grin. Some girl had asked me earlier if
she could give me her number, and I’d absently said sure. I didn’t know she
was going to pull out some bubble gum pink lipstick and graffiti my body.
As she marked me, she complimented me on how great I’d been in the
game yesterday. I forced a smile and let her prattle on. Clearly, someone
had told her that I was a professional football player but had left out a few
other mission-critical facts…namely that I hadn’t played for half of the last
season and this one wasn’t looking promising either.
“I didn’t know you could fit so much on an arm,” I said, touching the
smiley face Tess had drawn near my wrist. “At least not without wearing a
cast.”
“People have written the Declaration of Independence on a grain of
rice,” he said solemnly.
“Thank you, Captain Trivia,” I said with a huff of laughter. “Maybe you
can tell me how to get this shit off. I tried, but whatever lipstick she uses
must be made of the same stuff they use to paint rocket ships.”
“I think you’ll live.”
I eyed him as he played with the wrinkled pack of cigarettes, but he
only returned it to his pocket. The colorful rubber bracelet on his wrist
caught my attention. It was rainbow-colored with some words scripted in
white across the top. I circled his wrist and held it up so I could see the
words better. Rainbow Harbor. I recognized the name as the community
center he’d campaigned so hard for at that charity dinner.
He pulled away with a little frown.
Right. I wasn’t supposed to know anything about him and sharing
something would actually cause him to turn into a pumpkin, right there on
the spot.
“So what are you doing after this?” I asked.
“Dinner, I think. The food was amazing, but I didn’t get much of it.”
I shrugged. “Hey, you’d better be prepared to throw elbows in a room of
NFL players…at least, when food is concerned.”
“You think I’d have learned that by now, especially after….” He cleared
his throat because clearly the topic of King was verboten. “Anyway, let’s
just say I’ve never had over a few bites of a sharing platter.”
When I ate, there was what I ordered and what my companion ordered
but didn’t eat quickly enough. “The fuck is a sharing platter?”
He laughed. There was a loud cheer above us and the smooth beat
changed into something faster. He glanced at his watch.
I knew better than to ask him to go out to dinner with me. He wasn’t
interested in anything other than casual flirtation, and this would end where
it started, right here on this balcony. Which was fine. I didn’t even know
him, really. I didn’t know what he liked to do with his free time or where he
lived. Or what his favorite foods were.
I knew he worked at a community center, of course. I knew his favorite
drink was probably a sour amaretto because he always ordered one.
Sometimes two. He also drove a classic Plymouth Barracuda. And I knew
he was the most intriguing guy I’d met in a long time.
I’d get over it. All I had to do was think positively…and not think about
how he’d look down on his knees, his mouth stretched around my cock.
Now that just wasn’t helpful.
He pushed off the wall and gave me a half-smile. “Guess I’ll be going.”
“Yeah.” I gave him a jaunty little salute. “See you.”
5
 ANDREW

R unning through water wasn’t my idea of a good time. That was too bad
since my physical therapist, a terror named Reggie, had determined that
hydrotherapy was my life now. I sloshed through the water as I jogged,
earbuds firmly jammed in my ears.
I preferred my home gym to the rehab facility. It was quiet. Private. The
glass wall that revealed a wooded green area and a small lake didn’t hurt,
either. I guess it was more of a lagoon since it led out to the ocean, but
either way, it was peaceful and beautiful. Another plus? No Reggie
watching me like a hawk, just in case I got the bright idea to increase my
pace. When I bitched about it at PT, she reminded me that I was lucky to
have this easy-rider jog at all. It was my reward for having no pain and
swelling two weeks in a row. If that changed, she’d kick me back to a brisk
walk.
No incline, she warned. No unexpected movements.
Too bad we didn’t play football in a straight line. I was happy that I was
tolerating the activity well, but that meant jack-shit in the scope of my
return to the field. What was I supposed to do, get a note from Reggie that
read, please excuse your tight end from any unexpected movements today?
Someone touched my arm and I jolted, nearly tripping over my own
feet. That was certainly a downside to the HydroWorx—tripping and
bumping your head just might result in drowning. They should really put
that shit in the manual. I only hoped whoever was responsible would fish
me out and start CPR.
 I glanced over to see my agent standing there, looking crisp and
tailored. Ari Parker was wearing pinstripe trousers, a black oxford shirt, and
a black vest. His dark hair was curlier than usual—humidity was our
overlord today.
As his eyebrow continued to set all kinds of pole vault records, I took
out one of my earbuds and offered a lame, “Good seeing you, man.”
“Mmhmm. It certainly can’t be good hearing me, since you ignored all
of my calls.” Before I could even offer an excuse, he held up a hand. “Save
it. I’m used to dealing with delicate flowers.”
I scowled. “Excuse me?”
He gave me his best I said what I said expression as he glanced at his
Rolex. “I can either soothe your ego or we can just get started. I vote we do
the second thing.” He pointed at the lone earbud still in my ear. “Could you
take that thing out?”
Frankly, “X Gon’ Give It To Ya” on repeat was about the only thing
salvaging this morning. But I took the earbud out and put them in his
outstretched palm. “Happy?” I asked exaggeratedly.
“Not in recent memory, no,” he said as he laid them carefully on my
weight bench. “I tend to hover between satisfied and mildly content. Happy
makes me a tad uncomfortable.”
I couldn’t help but grin. “It shows.”
He started in on his list of grievances, which was hella long. Like the
efficient bastard he was, he’d written everything down in his phone—in
fucking checklist form—so he wouldn’t forget. At the top of the list was the
DUI. It was a bogus fucking charge that I would beat in court. Lower on the
list was the fact that I’d fired my assistant and missed a meeting with my
attorney. I was also photographed at Warner’s party with a drink in my
hand. Apparently, that was a no-no when facing charges based on your
behavior after the excessive consumption of alcohol. But I had reasons for
all of that.
Most of that.
“It wouldn’t hurt to improve your image a bit, you know.” He sent me a
stern look. “No falling out of the clubs with boy toys or strippers. Any
relationships need to be approved by me first so we can vet this person
thoroughly.”
“Excuse me, what’s wrong with my image?” I demanded.
 “Other than the fact that you got a DUI?”
For fuck’s sakes.
“For the last time, I was not driving.” I winced even as it came out of
my mouth. That excuse went right up there with the drugs aren’t mine, who
put that there, and I don’t usually do this. But in this case, it was fucking
true.
Ari didn’t look impressed. “Sure. While we’re on the topic, no more
fucking drinking.”
I waited for the “in public” that never came. I widened my eyes but Ari
only raised an eyebrow in return.
Fuck. Fine. Whatever. Even though I wasn’t on the active roster, I
would abstain. I’d be so alcohol-free that the Amish would ask what the
fuck was wrong with me.
Ari eyed me suspiciously as I tried to look trustworthy. If I had to guess,
he was probably wondering if ten percent was enough for the hassle that
was Andrew McAdams.
I didn’t have a good answer to that question.
“I come bearing gifts.” He reached into his attaché, pulled out a thick
sheaf of papers, and held them out to me…like I was going to read that shit.
“For you.”
“Er….” I looked at him like he was trying to hand me a baby with a
poopy diaper. Or any baby, really. Yet another reason my ill-advised
marriage had been doomed from the beginning. “Hard pass.”
“Is doing time in lockup a hard pass? Because I’m sure the Outlaws
organization would just love that.” He paused to let that little nugget of
doom sink in before he waved the bible-sized stack of papers at me again.
“This is the road to your freedom, and it goes through Jonathan Frost.”
“That asshole D.A.? He’s trying to make an example of me,” I said
darkly.
“And you’re making it oh-so-easy,” he said starchily. “He wants to
show that he’s hard on crime, no matter where the offender comes from.
Bottom line? He wants you to do time.”
“Yeah,” I said with a grunt. “And?”
“And I don’t want Frost to get good publicity by throwing your ass in
prison for a few years.”
 I wiped the sweat from my face with my shoulder. I wasn’t tired, but I
was starting to feel the strain in my muscles. I knew my body inside and
out, and things had edged slightly over pleasurable burn territory. Sullenly, I
lowered the setting a few notches. A fast turtle could keep up with this
fucking pace…or pass me, but not before he yelled over his shell that I
wasn’t pushing hard enough.
“Did Morgan sign off on this?” I asked.
I wasn’t just stalling for time. Morgan Black, my attorney, didn’t take
any shit. If she didn’t think it was a good idea, I wasn’t doing it.
“Who do you think spent half the day hammering this out with the
D.A.? We had a meeting afterward that included management, your coach,
and the PR department.” Ari was done trying to cajole me as the irritation
broke through. “A lot of talking has been going on behind the scenes to
unfuck your clusterfuck, AJ.”
I jogged in silence for a few minutes as he watched, arms folded. “Give
me the details.”
“Frost is willing to lower the charge to wet reckless driving, no DUI on
your record. You can thank your squeaky-clean record and low BAC for us
having any wiggle room here at all.”
“My blood alcohol was low because I only had a couple of drinks. Then
I decided to sleep it off in my car. I didn’t drive anyplace.”
“The car was on.”
“It’s fucking Florida. They should change our state motto to give me
A/C or give me death,” I snapped. “The car wasn’t even in gear.”
“You had physical control of the vehicle. You should’ve called someone
to pick you up and we could’ve avoided this whole mess,” he shot back.
“Frost also wants you to complete an alcohol class, and wear an ankle
monitor for three months —”
“The actual fuck—”
“The SCRAM bracelet can test alcohol through your skin, so you’re
about to have a dry, dry future. Not even cologne,” he warned.
I gaped at him. “I’m sorry, I could’ve sworn you said this was a deal.”
“It’s an upgrade from installing a breathalyzer on your car. You also get
to keep your license,” he reminded me. “No suspension. There’ll be fines
up the ass, but that’s to be expected. Community service is also part of the
deal.”
 Oh, this just got better and better. “How much?”
“Five hours a week for the next three months—”
“Five fucking hours—”
“Which you can do on Tuesday since you’re already off,” he
steamrolled on. “You should be kissing the ground that Frost walks on. And
the judge still has the option not to sign off on it.”
“Like they’re doing me a fucking favor,” I scoffed. “I’m surprised this
shit show doesn’t end with me being drawn and quartered.”
“It’s a good deal. And I suggest you take it—quickly—before they view
your incredible stubbornness as arrogance.” From his tone, I could tell
which one he thought it was. “I also fought for the stipulation that you get
to pick where you do your community service.”
Like that made it all better. Community service wasn’t my thing. Sure, I
was generous with my money and I had pet causes that I enjoyed
supporting. But I’d rather donate my money than my time.
When I told Ari as much, he made an exasperated noise. “None of the
things I said even remotely go under the subheading of suggestion,” he said.
“And will you come out of that contraption?”
“This contraption is my very expensive HydroWorx. And I’m
conditioning.”
“You’re irritating,” he corrected. “And you need to take this seriously.”
I lowered the setting a pinch.
“Best I can do.” As his eyes got squinty, I held up my hands in a
placating gesture. “I can’t just end my workout without a cooldown,
Parker.”
“Just look at the charities, okay?”
He rifled through the sheaf of papers until he found the one he was
looking for, and pulled it free with a little ah-ha. I reluctantly took the
paper, only to find it filled with charities. Front and back. Because Ari was
as thorough as he was persistent, he’d highlighted a few that he preferred. I
dismissed them immediately because most of his favorites were animal
rescues. I loved dogs, but I wasn’t about to shovel shit.
“What about Camp Bluegrass?” I asked even as I perused the list.
He was already shaking his head before I even finished the question. “I
love Blue’s charity. But you can’t do your service hours there. It would look
like your buddy is doing you a solid.”
 “Blue is not my buddy.”
We had too many strikes against us to be anything but surface friends.
My very purpose in being drafted to the Aventura Outlaws had been to take
his spot. Cozying up to the guy waiting for you to fuck up or break
something vital wasn’t easy, an irony that karma was now beating me over
the head with. Add that to the fact that I’d once slept with his then best
friend/now husband, and…well, as I said, we had a lot of strikes against us.
“He was a teammate,” Ari said patiently. “So Camp Bluegrass is out.”
I was about to complain some more when I spotted a familiar name on
the list under contact information. Jesse Fox.
Suddenly, the proposition of community service didn’t seem quite so
troublesome.
I grinned. “I know exactly where I want to do my time.”
“Maybe you could stop talking about it like doing a stretch in Alcatraz,”
Ari said sourly. “Which one do you like?”
“Rainbow Harbor.”
“I’ve heard of it. They run a nice operation. Small, but nice enough.” He
eyed me speculatively. “Are you sure that’s a good idea right now?”
I grunted as I finally pressed the e-stop button. “Why wouldn’t it be?”
I pulled the treadmill waste valve and let it drain, which usually only
took a few minutes. When the water was low enough, I opened the glass
door and came out of the machine carefully. The ground always felt strange
after the spongy texture of the treadmill.
My gym shorts clung to my everything and I pulled on them a few times
to no avail before kicking off my soggy sneakers. I grabbed the towel I’d
hung over the machine and ran it over my face and chest. I didn’t bother to
do more than a cursory dry job. My legs were still thrumming with energy,
and I knew the workout wasn’t enough. I’d probably hit the pool and get
some laps in to burn off the rest.
“With everything else going on, I’m just not sure it’s the right time to
throw your sexuality in management’s collective faces,” Ari mused.
“Throw my… are you even serious right now?” I gaped. “Jason Lewis
was just brought up on domestic charges by his wife, Gigi, and they’re
working overtime to make that shit go away. But my sexuality is a
problem?”
He didn’t deny the hypocrisy. “Yes.”
 “Well, I’m not okay with that.”
“You think I am?” He demanded. “I know it’s not fair, trust me. But for
all their progressive bullshit, there are still some dinosaurs in the higher
echelon of the organization. I want them to be thinking about only one thing
—how much they need you on the offensive line. When it comes to you
returning to the field, I want them to start using the word when. Not if.”
“Well, maybe I don’t fucking care what they think,” I snarled.
Despite all my bravado, I wasn’t ready to be a free agent. I was an
Aventura Outlaw. This was my home. My city. My fucking team. Hell, my
knees had been knocking together when I had “the talk” with management
in the first place and confirmed the rumors that had been flying around.
Coach Warner had been baffled but supportive.
“You were married,” he said slowly. “To a woman.”
“I said bisexual, did I not?”
“Forgive me if I’m wrong, but doesn’t that mean you still dig chicks?”
“Yes,” I said with an arched brow. “It’s right in the brochure of How To
Be A Good Bisexual. Our motto is, I dig chicks but I also ride dicks.”
His eyes bulged as he tried to look anywhere but at me, and I wondered
how long it would take him to get that image out of his mind. Probably a
good, long time. I hoped when he closed his eyes for the final time on his
deathbed, it flashed across his mind and he yelled, “No, please, make it
stop!”
“You know what the fuck I mean,” he finally managed.
“No, why don’t you spell it out for me?”
He glanced at our GM, Tim Barnes. Barnes rolled his shoulders
uncomfortably, making it clear that he wouldn’t be venturing an opinion
either way. Thanks to Blue, the organization had a road map for handling a
bisexual player. No head-scratching necessary.
Coach shifted in his seat, rubbing the back of his sunburned neck. “I
just think it would be…easier if you stuck with women.”
I stared at him for a few moments. When I finally spoke, my voice was
deadly quiet. “Easier for whom?”
“For you, of course,” he snapped. “And…us, I guess. The team.
Everyone.”
My jaw worked for a few minutes as I tried to keep my cool. “It doesn’t
work that way,” I finally gritted out.
 I was generally a laid-back person. But if I had to hear that logic in my
life ever again, I was going to lose it. It wasn’t about what was easier. It was
about being authentic, and that meant acknowledging both parts of me.
Even the parts management could do without.
“I can see you’re in no mood to be reasonable.” Ari sighed. “Look at the
papers and sign off on the deal, so we can get things going on our end. Frost
is giving you until the end of the day to think about it.”
“Frost should feel free to go fuck himself with an icicle.”
“It’s a good deal,” he said quietly. “You know I wouldn’t let them screw
you over.”
It was a strange time to realize how much I valued our friendship. I
wasn’t exactly lacking friends in my life, but they were surface friends at
best. People gravitated toward me because I was Andrew McAdams of the
Aventura Outlaws. To them, I was just an NFL player that they saw on
highlight reels. I hadn’t heard from those people as of late, which told me
all I needed to know about those relationships.
“I’ll let you know,” I finally said. “Thanks.”
He gave me one last long look before he sighed and left.
I stood there for a few moments, waiting until the security system
chimed, signaling the front door closing. Even taking door codes away from
these people wasn’t working. Maybe I should just weld the damn thing shut.
Stacia, my sunny housekeeper, would probably open a window and beckon
everyone in with a smile and a plate of fresh-baked cookies.
I stopped by the kitchen to grab the rest of my morning protein shake
and polished it off as I headed for the deck. I stared at the pool for a
moment, just enjoying the sight of the glittering turquoise water. The color
was even more intense due to the custom blue tiles on the bottom. After a
beat, I dove in, submerging myself until nothing could reach me, not even
the relentless Miami sun.
Real life and all its problems would just have to wait.
6
 JESSE

M y potential donor meeting was a bust.

I parked my car as close to the wall of the building as possible—
that way, I only had to worry about one person’s parking on the other side.
My Plymouth, Nina, was a looker, but admittedly a pain in the ass to
maintain. She was also missing all of the safety features that made a car…
well, drivable. Like seat belts and pesky airbags. Unimportant shit like that.
She’d stalled on my commute—the first time on the bridge and the
second on the railroad tracks, right as the lights started flashing. I was
starting to think that witch was trying to kill us both. But she had
sentimental value, so she lived to stall another day.
I headed into Rainbow Harbor, a small gray building that looked better
suited to a penitentiary than a community center. A small painted rainbow
hung above the door. One of the kids had made it in arts and crafts. There
was a small plant in the window and…yeah, that was about it for our décor.
The inside of the building wasn’t nearly as depressing. It was painted in
primary colors and motivational posters speckled the wall. The kids had
painted a rainbow with anime eyes across the waiting room wall that never
failed to make me smile. The only furniture in the room was a few chairs
past their prime that we’d patched up with tape and Molly’s desk, which
wasn’t much better.
Molly was a petite woman in her sixties with a Dolly Parton-sized
bosom and the same taste in makeup. She wasn’t strictly a receptionist—
hell, no one in the building was “strictly” anything. There was too much to
do and very little money to go around. Everyone was used to rolling up
their sleeves and pitching in on whatever needed to be done. In Molly’s
case, that meant overseeing everything from fielding calls to making sure
that the employees took care of themselves. She was an expert at bossing us
around mercilessly and saw most of the staff as her stand-in kids.
I headed for the breakroom. I needed caffeine and there wasn’t a force
on Earth that could stop me. Not even gravitational pull could keep me off
that coffee machine.
Molly bounced out of her chair as I walked past her desk. She puffed as
she tried to keep up with my long strides. “Where’s the fire?”
“I need coffee.”
“You just left a café,” she informed me. “I don’t know if you know this,
but sometimes you can buy coffee there. How did your meeting go?”
There was a dull ache at my temples that I could no longer ignore. “Flip
open a thesaurus to the word bad and go down the row with your finger.”
Yvette Woodward had been a donor prospect of significant means. I’d
met her at a work function, and we’d exchanged information over
pretentious little plates that seemed to indicate that the chef hated food. I
hadn’t expected much to come of it. Networking had been part of my fiber
for so long, that I didn’t even really realize when I was doing it. But then
she’d actually called. She’d seen a documentary about homeless LGBTQ+
youth and got inspired to do something about it.
I want to put my money where my mouth is, she’d told me on the phone.
I want to put your money where my bank account is, I bit my tongue to
keep from saying.
Despite my general pessimistic nature, I’d started to get excited. Joshua
Knox, our director and CEO, could do a lot with the funds she’d hinted at
donating. All of those things were on my mind as I tried to liberate her
money from her blue-veined hands.
Joshua was behind in taxes on the building—he wouldn’t tell me how
much, but I knew it had to be substantial. The roof needed fixing. The
electric bill was several months in arrears. The staff could use a pay
increase. The computer lab—a pretty lofty term for two dinosaur computers
on a table in a small room—needed an upgrade. A lot of the kids who came
to the center didn’t have access to much in the way of technology at home,
and it would be nice to offer them more than a computer that woke up each
day and strived to be a typewriter.
So yeah, Rainbow Harbor needed quite a bit. And I’d seen that need met
by the suddenly civic-minded Yvette. She seemed interested in our
programs, our mission statement, our center and potential…and then she
wasn’t. If I had to guess, that was probably from the text that winged in
from her husband, the politician, halfway through our meeting.
Despite my growing unease, I’d made the ask, and she’d declined
politely. I sagged in my chair a bit, realizing I was going to leave empty-
handed after a good two weeks of establishing a rapport with the lovely
Yvette. Not to mention all the legwork I’d done on the phone.
“My husband,” she said hesitantly. “He just doesn’t think it would look
good.”
I took an obligatory moment to listen to my proverbial balloon get
popped and wheeze as it deflated. “Helping people?”
“Helping…certain types of people.” Her face flamed with color as I
stared at her. “I’m sorry, dear.”
“That makes it all better,” I murmured, and she beamed because she
was an idiot who hadn’t quite managed to master the art of understanding
sarcasm.
Try explaining that to the always optimistic Molly. She assured me that
she had two donors on the hook—better donors than the flighty Yvette—
and something would turn up. That was her favorite Pollyanna phrase.
Something would turn up. I didn’t bother to tell her that bad shit could turn
up, too. Like a city employee to turn our electricity off. Or an inspector to
tell us our sagging roof better get repaired before they red tag it.
Molly sighed. “I guess I should call the city and beg for another
extension on the electricity.”
“Do you think they’ll go for it?”
“Let’s just say I’m not looking forward to that conversation.” She
grimaced. “Yes, hello? Remember how I told you that we would absolutely
positively have the money by this week? Well, none of that happened and I
need another extension.”
I bit my lip as I did a little calculating in my mind. “I think I might be
able to swing it.”
 She was already shaking her head before I even finished speaking.
“Joshua doesn’t want you to use your own money, Jess. You know that.”
“I do, and what he doesn’t know isn’t going to hurt him,” I said
decidedly. “Send me the payment information.”
“Jess—”
“I’ll make it work.” I squeezed her hand as she gave me a look that
managed to be both disapproving and fond. It wasn’t the first time I’d put
my own money into the center, and we both knew it wouldn’t be the last.
And yeah, sometimes it felt like I was paying it forward, backward, and
sideways, but it was a good cause.
“Well, now that we’ve got the pleasantries out of the way, we can move
on to more important matters.” Molly stretched her eyes at me and
whispered, “He’s here.”
“Who?” I asked irritably as my gaze landed on the empty coffee pot. I
spared a moment to wonder who hadn’t bothered to make fresh coffee
before I started making a pot myself. I mean, I’d put up a sign and
everything. If you take the last cup, make a fresh pot. Maybe I should add a
freaking diagram.
“The VIP I sent to your office.”
Well, that certainly explained the Lambo in the parking lot. “Where’s
Joshua? Shouldn’t he be handling this? He’s the director, is he not?”
“He’s in the bathroom fixing the sink…or trying to, anyway. And you’re
better at this type of thing anyway.”
Didn’t mean I enjoyed it, though. I sighed. “So what does this VIP
want? Is he thinking about donating?”
Normally, that would be good news. But I wasn’t sure I had another
bend over, grab your ankles and beg session in me today.
“Our VIP is an athlete, and it’s court-ordered volunteer work. Joshua
should have the details.”
Court-ordered? Ugh. He wasn’t our first. Quite frankly, I found them
hard to deal with. Either they slacked off to the point it was more work to
have them here, or they jumped in with both eager feet and left before they
finished a goddamned thing.
Molly could read the discontent on my face as she chirped, “A volunteer
is a volunteer.”
 I hit the brew button on the ancient coffeemaker. I wasn’t exactly
pleased about being saddled with some rich guy who was using the center
to get a get-out-of-jail-free card. But if it brought some good promotion to
Rainbow Harbor, so be it. The kids were worth it. The cause was worth it.
For that, I could put up with anything.
But I wouldn’t coddle his ass. So I hope he wasn’t expecting special
treatment…like waiting in my office. “You let someone in my office?
Unsupervised?”
“Sorry,” she said not sounding very sorry at all. “But it’s not like I could
keep him out front.”
“It’s called a waiting room,” I muttered. “The concept is pretty much
built-in, even for His Highness.”
“He was causing a bit of a pileup. The kids were in there asking him
questions—”
“God forbid.”
“A couple of guys saw him come in and followed him in off the street to
ask for autographs and pictures. And then Camilla got wind of things. I had
to hustle him out of there before she threw her panties at him.”
Camilla, one of the therapists on staff, believed in embracing your
sexuality thoroughly and often. She could be…aggressive. She’d tried her
wiles on me until I’d told her that couldn’t be less possible. I only swung
one way—no give on that pendulum.
I hid a smile. “She’s not that bad.”
“She asked him how much he could comfortably lift.”
“What’s wrong with that?” I shrugged. “You said he’s an athlete. He
probably gets that kind of question all the time.”
“And hold,” she said pointedly. “Against a wall.”
Oh. Even I blushed a little at that one as I conceded, “Okay, I see your
point.”
I could see Camilla’s, too, even if I wasn’t about to admit it. Last I
checked, no one was giving awards for being virtuous and lonely. If you
saw something you wanted, sometimes you had to cast caution to the wind
and go for it.
Finally, the coffee pot started spitting out the devil’s brew and I got
ready to worship with my ginormous mug that was at least the size of two
regular cups. One of the kids had made it for me in ceramics class. I refused
to knock her talent. Instead, I loyally believed that she’d probably never
seen a mug before.
“Okay, so tell me. How is he?” I filled my franken-mug to the brim,
which was almost the entire pot. I reset it again for the next person because
I’m polite and I know how to read a fucking sign.
“He’s fucking incredible. Six four or so. Wide shoulders. An ass you
could bounce a quarter off of, and trust me I looked for a quarter but I
couldn’t find one—”
“I meant his personality,” I said, biting my lip to hide a smile. “Is he
nice?”
“Honey if I was a little younger….” She fanned herself. “And now,
because of his apparent inability to hold his liquor, we get to ogle his fine
ass for the next three months. I’d say that worked out quite nicely.”
“Hold his liquor?” I asked slowly. I was getting a bad feeling and that
feeling smelled like Outlaw. “What did you say his name was again?”
“I didn’t, but if you must know, his name is Andrew McAdams.”
“Fucking Christ,” I said spilling a little coffee. I yanked a couple of
paper towels from the dispenser and started blotting the counter quickly.
No wonder Camilla had tried to ply her wiles on him. Not only was she
a fan of all things Aventura Outlaws, but I was sure that the presence of a
huge, attractive football player in the lobby was like Christmas had come
early, courtesy of a ripped Santa with tattooed forearms.
I tossed the wet paper towels in the garbage and slammed the lid shut.
Molly looked at me with an eyebrow raised and I flushed, trying to dial it
down a tad. The woman had the intuition of a gopher predicting six more
weeks of winter. No need to help her fill in the blanks.
“You know Andrew McAdams?” She asked curiously.
“Doesn’t everyone with a TV?” I asked evasively.
“Seems like more than that.”
“It’s not.” I forced a smile to soften my bluntness. “Where did you say
Joshua was again?”
“I just don’t think it’s a good idea,” I said for at least the third time to
Joshua’s jean-clad legs. They were as threadbare as the rest of his clothes. I
could see the ends of his flannel peeking out from the open cupboard doors.
He was a big guy, gruff and soft-spoken with a full gray beard. Worn t-
shirts and stained jeans were about as dressy as it got for Joshua, and it was
hard to believe that once upon a time, he’d been an ophthalmologist.
“Why not?” His response drifted out from under the sink as he
continued to work a wrench on something I was pretty sure didn’t need a
wrench. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Jess, but this center is hanging on
by a thread. Have you seen the quarterly reports? We could use a little good
publicity from a big name.”
“I’ll find the funding. You know that.”
“From where? Your bank account?” He grunted as he finally got the
shiny piece in place. “That’s not how this works. And that’s not what I
wanted for you. I didn’t send you to college so you could wind up in the
poor house.”
“Far from that,” I shot back, rubbing my neck. Maybe I was a little…
vigorous in my donating efforts, but money would come and go. This was
important. “I’m working on that grant opportunity with City Group—”
“Grants don’t save centers, you know that,” he said. “We have to show
that we’re an entity that can sustain ourselves before they’ll give us any real
consideration. That’s why there’s a comprehensive financial section in the
application.”
“Just so we’re on the same page, are you going to keep wasting my time
telling me things I already know?”
“If necessary,” he said a little too cheerfully. “I’m going to need you to
turn that water on in a minute. I’m just about done. Saved us quite a bit of
money, too.”
I looked at the shiny doodads on the floor next to Joshua. Looked like a
lot of parts were left for someone in the final steps of a repair. “Don’t you
need that gasket?”
“Pfft.” He continued whaling on the pipe with his wrench. “They
always give you more parts than you need.”
“You sure about that? Because an airline once saved 40K a year by
removing one olive from each salad in first class.” I eyeballed his pile of
plumbing flotsam and jetsam some more. “Companies generally don’t like
including one more item than they have to.”
“I’ll worry about the sink,” he said confidently. “You worry about our
new volunteer.”
“Maybe someone else would be better for this.” I scratched the back of
my neck as I tried to think of whose plate I could dump this mess on. “You
know, Van loves sports. And didn’t Teddy play football in college? This
would be a dream come true for—”
“McAdams doesn’t need a fanboy making him uncomfortable,” he said
with a grunt. “He’s going to get enough of that from the kids and their
parents.”
There wasn’t much I wouldn’t do for Joshua Knox. He knew that as
well as I did. Every excuse I made from this point would go under the
category of stalling.
I wasn’t even sure what the big deal was. So what if I had a horrid little
crush on our new volunteer? So what if he was an awful flirt and left me
flustered every time I saw him? I knew better. I’d been down that road
before and there was not a U-turn to be found on my life map. I wasn’t
about to get into another relationship with another NFL player…and
certainly not one known to go through relationships like a thirsty dog went
through water.
“Did I win?” I could hear the smile in Joshua’s voice. “It feels like I
won.”
I sighed. “Was there ever any doubt?”
“Not really,” he said, sounding too smug for my liking. “There’s a
packet on my desk with all the information you need to know, so give it a
quick read before you guys get started. Now turn on the water for me.”
I did as I was told.
It was very satisfying when water started shooting out of the sides of the
pipe. I only started to feel a little bad when he jolted up and bumped his
head on something under the sink. He gave a resounding fuck that they
probably heard two doors down.
I shut off the water and headed down the hallway, leaving him cursing
up a blue streak. “Molly,” I called. “We’re going to need towels in here.”
“Joshua Knox,” she screeched. “You get out from under that sink right
now.”
My office felt a little smaller than usual. That could be because it was
occupied by a big football player who seemed to take up a whole lot of
space. Maybe his shoulders were just a little too wide. Maybe this was a
horrid idea and I should’ve told his team no thank you, Rainbow Harbor is
good on volunteers with a smokin’ body and a cut jaw, thanks.
He was wearing athletic gear—gray sweats and a matching t-shirt, both
of which had Outlaws’ signage somewhere on the fabric. He had a
backward cap jammed over his hair, which should have made him look like
a douche. Instead, it just made him look young and fresh-faced, ready to get
out into the sun and do…whatever the hell athletic people do out there. The
ten-year gap between us had never seemed so wide.
Good. I mentally wedged a block of C4 in that gap to make it even
wider. I did not conduct dalliances with people in their twenties. When our
paths crossed, I took a moment to reminisce on where I was when they were
born, admired how they were able to get up without their knees making
noises like a bear rolled on some bubble wrap, and sent them on their way.
But then there was McAdams.
The level of my attraction for this man was a strange kind of math—it
increased every time I laid eyes on him. I knew there was ash brown hair
under that cap, that fell artlessly into his honey brown eyes. He had more
scruff today than he’d had at the party. I wanted to feel that scruff under the
pads of my fingers…wanted to feel it against my skin.
I muttered a greeting as I edged around him and dropped into my desk
chair. I did a lot of shuffling of papers on the desk—mostly invoices and
bills and notes from Molly—but the only thing I was looking for was my
professionalism. And maybe a good dollop of willpower.
Eventually, I had to look up.
“I thought I’d get here early,” he said looking a little nervous as he gave
me a lopsided little smile that I refused to find endearing. Fuck-up athletes
were not endearing. “Nice seeing you again, Fox.”
I didn’t beat around the bush. “What are you doing here?”
“On Earth in general or….”
“You know what I mean.”
 “Community service,” he said, arching a brow. “You didn’t get the
paperwork?”
Oh, I got it alright. That’s why I was a half-hour behind. I had retrieved
his packet from Joshua’s desk and proceeded to return several calls with
people on his “team.” I mean who needed a team to arrange his life?
For my diligence, I was lectured on what he was allowed to do and not
do. Some lawyer named Morgan had sent over NDAs for the staff to sign.
There was also a copious amount of paperwork that I had to fill out for the
courts.
Fuck. It was probably easier to smuggle a capuchin through customs. I
mean, I’d never done that, of course. But it had to be. And more rewarding
to boot.
“You don’t think this is going to be a little…awkward?” I asked
tactfully.
The look he gave me could only be described as mild. “Why’s that?”
Because every time I see you, you ask me out. And every time you ask,
I’m more tempted to say yes.
“I can think of a few reasons,” I murmured.
“That…has nothing to do with this.” He finally stopped pretending he
didn’t know what I was talking about, and a little self-deprecating smile
broke free. “I mean, yeah, you’re the reason I noticed this place. But I spent
some time exploring the website. I like what you guys do, and I have to
volunteer somewhere. Might as well be here.”
“I guess as long as we keep things professional, it should be fine,” I said
begrudgingly.
He looked amused. “I can control myself if you can.”
That…was anyone’s guess.
“Let’s just get started,” I said because I was a professional who did
professional things. “Coffee?”
“Nah, I’m in training. I try to take it easy on the caffeine.”
“Just not the booze, huh?”
He flushed. “I’ve been under a lot of stress lately, and I made a bad
judgment call—”
“I don’t need your life story.”
I wanted those words back, especially when his jaw tightened. That
stupid meeting with Yvette had sucked all my manners right out of my
head. But fuck, didn’t he know how many people died from drunk driving
every year? Despite not wanting to date him, I knew he was a good guy. I’d
rather not see his picture on the news behind an announcement of how
many people he’d killed.
“Have it your way,” he finally said. “Where do I start? I’m ready and
willing, so put me to work.”
His enthusiasm was rather sweet but it would fade. It always did. New
volunteers were almost the worst kind—they had grand ideas and great
intentions, but not the motivation or determination to see any of those ideas
to fruition.
“I’m not quite sure what to do with you yet,” I finally said. “I thought
we could start with a tour and let you get a feel for how we operate.”
“That sounds great. Maybe I could be useful in the sports department,”
he suggested.
“We don’t have a sports department.”
“Maybe you should.” His brow furrowed. “Physical activity is
important to a kid’s development.”
“I understand that. But we work with what we have and right now, we
don’t have all that much. The Harbor is one-hundred percent donor
supported. We’re also using every square inch of space here—”
“It would be outside,” he said, looking surprised at his insistence. “One
of my teammates started a football camp for kids and they do some pretty
amazing things—”
“I’ve heard of Camp Bluegrass, McAdams.” The fact that he would
compare our tiny operation to that glorified ego-trip Blue Montgomery had
built for only the luckiest of the lucky to attend was laughable. “Look, I’m
sure your heart is in the right place, but we just don’t have that kind of
budget.”
“Then I can fund it,” he said, his voice tinged with exasperation. “It
wouldn’t take much to buy some sports equipment and implement some
programs.”
“Go nuts,” I said. “You can worry about the sports while we worry
about clothing and food and their mental state…you know, unimportant
things like that.”
His mouth worked for a few moments before he bit down on the inside
of his cheek. I leaned back in my chair and watched him in fascination,
wondering if he’d let me have it or just explode. I was almost disappointed
when he just gave me a curt nod and a terse, “I see.”
“Let’s walk and talk.” I pushed out of my chair and stood. “I can give
you the grand tour.”
He stood, dwarfing me so thoroughly that I was hard pressed not to step
back...or forward. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction, so I stayed
put. I flushed as that intense honey-colored gaze landed on my face, and did
my best not to think of dirty things.
Dick don’t fail me now. I willed it to behave, especially since McAdams
was examining me like the last pastry in the bakery case. There wasn’t a
damn thing I could do about my reddening ears and after a moment, his
mouth curved.
I sent him a grim look. I could no more hide my attraction to him than I
could change my eye color. But if he so much as mentioned one word about
it, he would regret it.
“After you.” He gestured toward the door as I continued to look at him
like a weirdo. “And maybe you can take the awkwardness down a notch?”
Not likely. My awkwardness was working on Buzz Lightyear time—to
infinity and beyond.
7
 ANDREW

A s Jesse showed me around the two-story building that had seen better
days, our tour group seemed to be getting larger. We passed several rec
rooms, a study room, and a library, which was just a glorified room with
thrift shop chairs and secondhand reading materials. Someone had painted
the giving tree on the wall and added a corner with a couple of throws and
pillows. I didn’t read anything but the Outlaws’ playbook, but I could see
the charm.
Jesse didn’t let me see the charm for long as we blew through the room.
We added two more to the group as we left the library, and I hid a grin.
After all the negative publicity, it was nice to know that I still had some
fans. Even if Jesse Fox was not in that number.
That was too bad. He was stuck with me whether he liked it or not.
Judging from the set of that mouth, the scale was leaning toward not. He
probably thought his pace was too fast for chatting, but that was laughable.
If I couldn’t talk while I was exercising, how the hell would I do my very
necessary trash-talking?
When he realized there was no way he was going to shake me, he
begrudgingly answered my questions about Rainbow Harbor. It was more
interesting than I thought it would be. Or maybe I just liked to hear Jesse
talk.
“The Harbor tries to provide enrichment programs like art and music
class, but the main goal is to provide a safe space for at-risk LGBTQ+
youth,” he said, striding down the hall. “They can use the computers, the
library, or just hang out. They can talk about any issues with a counselor on
staff, and mentors are also available if the kids want a more informal
approach.”
“That’s handy.”
He opened a door to give me a glance at a makeshift kitchen. I’d barely
taken a look around before he closed the door on my face. “And we’re
moving,” he said crisply.
“Thanks,” I said sarcastically, rubbing the bridge of my nose to make
sure it was still all there. “You ever get fired as a tour guide in a museum?”
I could just see it now, Jesse in a uniform jacket and pressed khakis,
leading a group of curious kids and waving his arm at the entirety of their
dinosaur collection. “Bones,” he’d say succinctly. “And we’re moving….”
He led me to the back of the building. I looked through the windows as
we passed, getting daunting snapshots of my self-appointed project. The
grass and hedges were overgrown but there was lots of space and plenty of
flat ground for my athletic program. I grinned a little to myself. My athletic
program? Already?
Well, I was known to jump into things with both feet. I could hardly be
expected to change now, could I?
Several kids were sitting in the rec room as we passed and some of them
greeted him exuberantly. I wasn’t even the least bit surprised when he knew
them all by name.
One of the girls barreled into his stomach, and he barely got his arms
open quickly enough. “Kara. Is your mom going to be able to get off work
to pick you up or do you need a ride?”
“I wouldn’t be caught dead in that old thing.” When Jesse released her,
she sidled over to me. “But maybe Andrew—”
“Mr. McAdams is not cleared to transport any children in his vehicle,”
Jesse said, heading her off at the pass.
I swallowed a grin at his starchy tone—he didn’t just sound like a
librarian, he sounded like the librarian. The one who taught the others how
to say shhh properly and shit.
“So. What’s the verdict on the ride?” He asked.
“I’m good. She said she’s coming.” She sauntered off, putting a little
extra oomph in her walk-away. If her mother was smart, she’d just keep
driving and head for Mexico. “We might even have pizza for dinner. You
like pizza, Andrew?”
“He does not,” Jesse said crisply.
I barked out a laugh. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” He nudged the arm of one of the kids half-lying on
the couch, his head on the floor and his feet pointed toward the ceiling.
“Mark, one of these days you’re going to break something vital that you
need.”
“My dick is fine,” he said with a smirk, and Jesse smothered a laugh.
“See, this way, I’d only hurt my head.”
“Well, we know you’re not using that,” he said. “And clean up that salty
language.”
“Yessir,” Mark saluted. “One helping of language sprinkled with Mrs.
Dash, coming right up.”
“Smartass,” Jesse muttered.
“Hey! Is that or is that not salty language?”
“I’m old. Salt is all the joy I have left, kid. That’s why I use it liberally
in my food and my vocabulary,” Jesse informed him. “Besides, haven’t you
heard the phrase do as I say, not as I do?”
“Who is that quote from?” Kara wanted to know.
“Probably George Washington,” Mark guessed off-handedly. “I think he
and Jesse were like roommates or whatever.”
Jesse lunged, threatening to tickle the little shit and Mark squealed.
Jesse’s smile broke free as he straightened and glanced my way. I didn’t
even bother to hide the fact that I was staring because fuck, if I thought he
was beautiful before, that smile took it to a different level. Made my knees a
little wobbly.
That open, carefree smile faded slowly and he straightened his shirt,
which had bunched when he was horseplaying with Mark. He waved a hand
for us to start walking again. “And we’re moving….”
I sighed.
We ended up in the back of the building, looking out at the overgrown
lawn. Very overgrown. This yard could call up the Amazon and give the
rainforest tips on how to be dense.
“Welcome to your kingdom,” Jesse said with a little grin. Apparently,
just the thought of me wading through that misery of weeds was enough for
him to trot out that glorious smile again. “The kids swore they saw a snake
out here once, but I didn’t see it for myself.”
“Lovely.”
Despite my sour tone, I was already feeling a little excited. I was sure
some of the kids would help me with the yard work. And I could buy one of
those preassembled sheds from a home improvement store to stash all the
supplies, something that locked.
I took a few minutes to make a mental list, which was laughable,
considering I usually had an assistant for everything. Guess when the
mission was important enough, even I could lock in and get focused.
“So you’ve told me all about the Center,” I said as Jesse led the way
back inside. “But what about you? What made you want to do this?”
He shrugged as he held the door open for me to pass. “I saw a need and
got involved.”
“That version of things is remarkably condensed, even for you.”
“Condensed things are good. Just ask anyone from the Campbell’s soup
dynasty.”
My mouth quirked. “I could do that, yes. Or you could stop bullshitting
me and answer a simple question.”
He rolled his eyes as he closed the doors and locked them. “Wow, you
don’t give up, do you?”
“Nope. It’s one of my best qualities,” I said. “Along with a laid-back
personality, a good sense of humor, a kickass banana bread recipe, and a
good-sized, slightly curved dick.”
Jesse gaped at me for a few seconds, just staring. Then he blinked those
long-lashed green eyes a few times. “Gracious.”
I smothered a grin. I’d love to see what else I could make Jesse say
gracious about.
“Who told you that?” He finally managed.
“Every coach I’ve had since I was in pee-wee football.” As his eyes
widened, I reviewed my list and grinned. “Just the not giving up thing. The
other compliments I picked up along the way.”
“Good to know,” he finally said. “Let me give you an answer to your
question before you sully my ears with any more of your…qualities.”
“Fuck your air quotes, Fox.”
 He huffed out a laugh. “My mentor is the founder and CEO of this
place, so after I got my degree, it only made sense to come back here. It’s
not exactly a hardship. I owe him….”
Everything.
The word he didn’t say hung between us in the silence. My brow
furrowed, but before I could ask about the relationship between him and
Joshua Knox, he cleared his throat. “It all boils down to paying it forward.
That’s it in a nutshell.”
“Mr. McAdams?”
I turned to find a dark-haired kid standing behind us, football in hand.
“Andrew,” I corrected as he thrust the football at me.
“Harper,” he said a little shyly. “Would you mind signing this?”
His request just about melted my damn heart. I took the time to sign the
football and take a couple of selfies. When Jesse made noises about moving
on, I slung my arm over Harper’s shoulder. We talked as we walked with
Jesse trailing behind us. We both ignored his mutter of, “what am I,
chopped liver?”
By the time we got back to Jesse’s office, Harper looked about ready to
explode into happy confetti. “Will you be back next week?” he asked
eagerly, clutching his football like someone was going to take it away.
My mouth lifted in a little smile. Maybe the next three months weren’t
going to be as bad as I thought. “Of course.” I clapped him on the back.
“You can count on it.”
Harper grinned. “Cool. I can’t wait to post that shit.”
“Language!” Jesse yelled as Harper bounded off.
Jesse stooped to pick up two Amazon packages stacked in front of his
office door, and my gaze dropped to his rear. It was on the smaller side but
perfectly rounded. I’d like to spread him open, perfect and sweet as a split
peach, and lick him until he begged me to fuck him…which I would then
do because I’m a nice guy.
I made sure my gaze was elsewhere when he rose. The last thing I
needed was to pop a boner. That was the kind of thing that got you hauled
out of a kids’ center in cuffs while people shook their heads and proclaimed
sadly that you seemed like such a nice guy.
Despite the tour, Jesse still didn’t seem to have an idea of where to put
me. The center didn’t have a lawn mower, so working on the grass was out.
I ordered one, but the one I wanted wouldn’t arrive for another three days.
A flirty therapist named Camilla barely got out her name and four digits
of her number before Jesse shooed her off. I watched her go with a bemused
smile as Jesse muttered that I was sticking with him today.
What a hardship.
I barely smothered a grin as he marched ahead of me. I couldn’t have
planned things better myself.
8
 JESSE

I wasn’t sure which I disliked more, donor meetings or spending hours at

my desk working on paperwork. Monday was a mix of the two, meaning
some sadist had thrown hell, black licorice, and my life in a big bowl and
started whisking. I secured a small grant from City Group, though, and they
forwarded over the paperwork.
I finished late, long after most people vacated the building. Then I
headed for the kitchen to squeeze in some meal kit assembly before I called
it quits. I started out putting them together once a week as a courtesy, but
now some families depended on them. I knew my paltry efforts didn’t even
make a dent in the problems of food insecurity, but it made me feel better
that I was doing something.
As I walked down the quiet, darkened hallway, I glanced out the
window to the outside grounds. The change out there was remarkable.
Previously, I would’ve needed a survivalist and a machete to guide me
through the weeds—now, it was neat and tapered. Between Andrew and
several of the older kids, they’d put that poor mower through its paces. It
was probably in the shed this very moment trying to book an uber back to
Home Depot.
I hated to admit it, but Andrew wasn’t dialing it in. He’d been at the
Harbor for three weeks now, and I’d given up on finding a flaw with his
work product. It was pointless. He was good at just about everything he did
and was always ready and willing to work.
 The kids loved him—their moms did, too. He was a walking, talking
box of Kix cereal. I’d never seen so much deceptively casual touching
during a conversation. The dads loved him, too, but mostly because they
wanted to bend his ear about football. The notable exception was one of the
single dads, Keith, whose wardrobe and cologne usage distinctly improved
on Tuesdays. None of them seemed to notice that Andrew’s attention was
laser focused on one person—me. And it was giving me palpitations.
But that was a problem for tomorrow. He didn’t even come in on
Mondays, so I could officially breathe. And dress like a slob in torn jeans,
an old Superman t-shirt, and some battered Converse. Okay, so maybe
Keith wasn’t the only one who got spiffier on Tuesdays.
I hit the light switch in the kitchen and it flickered for a few moments
before humming to life, washing the room in sickly fluorescent light. I had
about twenty meal kits to make and not a lot of time to do it. The good
news was that I wouldn’t have to make dinner. Whatever I made, I would be
eating.
After staring in the fridge for a bit, I started gathering ingredients for an
easy favorite—chili mac. It went a long way, it fed a big crowd, and the
ingredients were cheap as could be.
“Score,” I murmured, clutching my bounty. “And bonus, it’s pretty
damn tasty, too.”
“What is?”
As I whirled, I lost my grip. Andrew caught most of the falling items
before they hit the floor, which I guess wasn’t much of a surprise. Those
hands and that coordination were his meal ticket.
He stopped a rolling onion with his sneaker as he deposited everything
on the counter with a heart-stopping grin. “Are you new at carrying
things?”
“Good Lord.” I stared at him in disbelief. “Do you just appear when
someone starts preparing food? Did you teleport from your house?”
“Just a coincidence.”
“You did the same thing last week when Molly brought in pastries and
sent a group text. You were at the sporting goods store buying supplies and
then you just appeared, like a fuckin’ hungry vampire who lives on sugar
instead of blood—”
 “Hey, free donuts mean you run. Everyone knows that. She might as
well have yelled fire in a paper factory.” He shrugged. “Not my fault you
sauntered.”
“I walked briskly,” I informed him. “Just in time to find crumbs and
your powdered sugar lips.”
“I did say you could lick it off if you wanted, did I not?”
“You’re all heart,” I said dryly.
He grinned as he went over to the sink and washed his hands. By the
time he dried them, I was finally getting the picture. And I didn’t think
reminding him that he didn’t have to come in until tomorrow would work. I
tried another tactic.
“This won’t take long to put together,” I said. “I don’t need any help.”
“We’re going to put that on your tombstone. Cool? Cool.” He tossed the
dish towel back on the counter. “Put me to work.”
I sighed and gave him some onions to dice and cheese to grate. Then I
got busy searing the meat. He was surprisingly adept with a knife, working
quickly and efficiently. When he peeled the onions expertly with a few
quick cuts like he was on Chopped or something, I couldn’t hold back any
longer.
“I didn’t peg you for someone who cooks,” I blurted.
“Making assumptions about me again, Jesse?” He continued dicing
onions in perfect little squares. “My parents owned a restaurant most of my
life, and they weren’t shy about putting my brother and me to work.”
“Half-time Bar & Grill.” When he raised an eyebrow, I shrugged. “I
know some things about you.”
“Not the right things,” he murmured. “It started as Tally’s Tavern, which
was a bit of a sinking ship. They remortgaged the house twice, maxed out
their credit cards, and even cashed out our college funds…with our
permission,” he added when I made a little noise.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound judgmental.”
“Isn’t that kind of your default mode?” He grinned as I flipped him off
with a hand under my chin. “When I call you on it, you start blushing, and
it’s kind of adorable—”
“Weren’t we talking about your parents?” I asked desperately.
He chuckled softly. “Long story long, they were in over their heads.
They didn’t know much about the restaurant business at all, and buying a
failing bar probably wasn’t the best choice they could’ve made.”
“So why did they?”
He shrugged. “They were looking for a change and wanted to be their
own bosses. The owner was looking to sell and they decided to take the
risk. What’s life without risk?”
“Safe.” I felt his gaze on the side of my flushed face as I gave the
sizzling meat a good stir in my cast iron skillet. “Are you through with the
—”
A bowl of perfectly chopped onions appeared under my nose, and my
eyes watered. “Thanks.”
“Anything else?”
“Cheese,” I reminded him and he nodded before he got to work.
We were going to be done in no time at all. I glanced over to find him
shredding cheddar in the most zen-like way possible and chuckled under
my breath. Chili mac was a simple dish and one I prepared often. And that
was before I was handed a sous chef as efficient as Andrew.
As he continued to wax on, wax off with the cheese, I tsked impatiently.
“You were telling me about your parents.”
He looked surprised, but a little pleased that I’d asked. “After I got
drafted, we fought a lot over me helping them financially,” he said. “It
started to be a strain on our relationship. If you’d ever told me that my first
real fights with my parents would’ve been over giving them money, I
would’ve laughed myself silly.”
“I guess it’s not easy to take money from your son,” I said. “Or
capitalize on his success.”
I mean, my father would’ve taken my last two nickels and circled back
the next week to rob me again. But I could only assume he was the
anomaly, not the norm.
“My success is their success,” he said simply.
“That’s a nice way to look at it.”
“It’s the truth. They gave me everything to make sure that I succeeded.
And while I was the one who had to step up and do the work, there would
be no me without the two of them. Literally.” He shook his head. “You
should’ve seen how pissed my dad got when I paid off their mortgage. I
thought he was going to rip up the deed and eat the pieces.”
I laughed. “I’m sure that deep down, he was grateful.”
 “Really deep down.” He grinned and it was impossible not to grin back.
“My mother just cried and hugged me so hard that I begged for mercy.”
The fondness in his tone was undeniable. I wondered if it would always
feel like a gut punch when I thought of my relationship with my mother. Or
lack thereof.
“It all sounds so perfect.”
“We have our moments,” he said, a little smile on his face that was more
wistful than anything else. “There will always be that missing piece, though
—”
“And you all take turns trying to fill the void,” I said quietly.
“You get it.” As usual, he seemed to see a little too much, and his next
question confirmed it. “Who are you helping fill the void for?”
I wasn’t helping to fill anything. I was the void…at least, I imagined I
was. Surely my absence had left a space in my family’s life. A blip on the
radar before everyone went on as if I didn’t exist. Maybe that was just
hopeful thinking.
“Can you start boiling the noodles?” I asked, sidestepping that question.
“That’s just about the last step before assembly. All they have to do is bake
it.”
He went along with my subject change easily enough. “That should
make some busy parents happy. What else goes in the meal kit?”
“Bagged salad, bread, and some iced oatmeal cookies that Molly made.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Shit, where do I sign up?”
I suppressed a smile. Damned if I was going to admit he was good
company. In due time, he would be gone, and I’d be back to doing this as I
usually did—alone. Instead of dwelling on that, I got busy turning the
ground beef into chili.
We kept talking as I worked but kept the topics light. Andrew was
clearly done being helpful and applied himself to getting in the way at every
turn. When I finally declared the chili done, he plucked a piece of beef right
out of the skillet even as I warned him that he shouldn’t.
I watched in exasperated amusement as he burned both his fingers and
his poor taste buds. “Haht,” he managed as he fanned his open mouth. “Ish
so haht.”
“Yes, well, it just came right out of a screaming hot skillet,” I said
mildly. “Crazy how that works, isn’t it?”
 He glared.
When it was all said and done, we put together twenty meal kits. I had
to play a little fridge Jenga to get them in there until we could distribute
them the next day, but I managed to make them all fit. I stared at the neatly
packaged kits for a few moments before I let the door swing shut.
When I turned around, Andrew was watching me. Those big, tawny
eyes didn’t miss a trick. “What?”
“I don’t know. I guess…it just never seems like enough.”
“Something is better than nothing.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I rubbed a hand over my eyes tiredly. “But everything is
even better than that.”
“Word play, Foxy?” He demanded with a mock dismayed expression.
“Really?”
I huffed out a laugh. “Sorry. Just ignore me. It’s been a long day.”
“Every day for you is a long day. What you need is someone to feed
you. And maybe even give you a massage to help you relax.”
I arched a brow because I had a feeling his definition of relaxing
involved someone riding someone’s dick. And damned if that didn’t sound
tempting. “Is that so?”
“It is. And I know just the person.”
“I just bet you do.”
“Go out with me, Foxy.”
Fuck if I didn’t want to say yes. What the hell is happening between us?
Whatever it was, it was happening against my will.
“Nope,” I said quickly before my stupid mouth could say something
else.
His eyes twinkled merrily. “I’d like to think the time between my
question and your big fat nope is getting longer, but that’s probably just
wishful thinking.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “See you tomorrow.”
He started for the door but then paused. He briefly touched my shirt,
and I looked down to find him focused on the Superman logo. When I
looked back up, his expression was soft with something I wasn’t even
tempted to define.
“No lies detected,” he said with a soft smile “See ya, Foxy.”
 I stood there for a few moments after he left, blushing and irritated both.
A superhero, I was not. But it was nice that he appreciated me. I appreciated
him, too, for his help and company. The stupid smile he put on my face?
Not so much.

My good mood lasted right up until I got home and saw the yellow
sunflowers on my stoop. My favorite. I already knew who they were from
even before I stooped to pick them up, but I scanned the street anyway. I
didn’t see his black Range Rover, but I knew.
The vase was heavy crystal and the flowers were fresh and lovely.
Despite myself, I gave one of them a sniff. Only the best for Trace King. I
was tempted to put them right back down and leave them there, but that
would just make Trace ramp up his efforts. I went inside and pulled the
door shut behind me.
I put the flowers on the kitchen counter and stared at them, my brows
drawn in a frown. Once upon a time, those flowers would’ve been beautiful.
Once upon a time, those flowers would’ve made my night.
I’d met him on a hookup app, which was pretty much the least Jesse
kind of thing I’d ever done. I still can’t say what spurred me to do it—the
closest I can get is that an ex of mine had gotten engaged, and it set off
something in me. Or maybe it just made my fear go dormant for a while.
Either way, a friend recommended an app, and off to the world of online
dating I went.
In a slew of abs and asses, the profile pic of a cherry tree intrigued me. I
messaged him a few times and he was nice, if vague. Vague, I could work
with. It was certainly better than the other guy I’d messaged, who spent the
first five minutes of our conversation telling me how hard he wanted to
pound my hole. Cherry tree guy won over that douche in a landslide.
So I agreed to meet up with him at a hotel bar.
I showed up with lowered expectations and a can of mace in my
pocket…as you do. I was prepared for a balding jobless guy who lived in
his mom’s basement. You could’ve scraped my jaw off the bar top when
Trace sat across from me. He was six foot six and built, dark-skinned,
brown-eyed, and sporting a shy, nervous grin. I was almost tempted to
splash myself in the face with my sour amaretto.
Almost.
I sipped it instead as we had good conversation, food, and more drinks.
He was smart and made me laugh, and that was all it took. I was thoroughly
charmed. Eventually, we went up to a hotel room. He’d told me hesitantly
that this had to be a secret because he wasn’t out. By that time, I would’ve
agreed to pretty much anything.
A one-night thing turned into every Saturday, which smoothly segued
into us dating. It wasn’t long before the laser-focused Trace wanted the rest
of that time I’d squirreled away. I’d been hesitant at first, scared to trust
enough to let him in my life in a real way. Trusting him went against
everything I’d come to know about life in general. In my experience,
everyone looked out for themselves and if they could take advantage of
you, they would. Cynicism wasn’t a bad thing in the streets—it was the
thing that kept me alive for so long.
What are you so scared of? I could still see his face, earnest and caring,
his hand firm on my chin. I love you, and I just want what’s best for you.
The words had been seductive and wrong as they made their way through
my brain. But I needed that love more than self-preservation, and I’d fallen
into the lie headfirst.
He began to systematically show me that I wasn’t good enough. Could
never be good enough. I hadn’t gone to the right schools and I didn’t know
the right people. My job wasn’t impressive enough. My car was a piece of
crap. I spent too much time down at the center and not enough time with
him. When I made the mistake of telling him about my past, it was fucking
open season. Sometimes it seemed like Trace’s favorite hobby, other than
collecting expensive watches, was criticizing my everything.
I wish I could say I was the one who broke it off. That I delivered a
speech that left his ears ringing, his pleas of forgiveness a glorious
soundtrack as I stormed out the door. None of that Gloria Gaynor “I Will
Survive” shit happened. Instead, I found out about his engagement at his
grandmother’s funeral and lived to regret demanding an explanation.
Helena had all the right connections and perfect lineage. She wanted a
lot of kids and his mother adored her—I’m sure the promised grandchildren
didn’t hurt. Then he told me, not unkindly, that it was over. No yelling. No
histrionics. Just…we’re done. When I stuttered in confusion that I thought
he loved me, he barked out a disbelieving laugh.
“Of course I do. I love you in a way I’ll never love Helena.”
I searched his eyes and I could see that he meant every word…which
only added to my confusion. “Then why are you doing this?” I asked
slowly.
“Because I can’t be gay, Jesse. You know that.” He sounded angry. “My
team would have a fucking fit. My coach would kill me. And then my family
would come along and finish the job.”
I scoffed. From what he’d told me about his family, I knew they were
well-connected and stuffy, but not dangerous. They might not approve, but
they wouldn’t harm him physically. His parents were both doctors and his
older brother and sister had followed suit. Trace was the only one who was
athletically gifted, and they sometimes treated him like a dumb jock.
I thought their main problem with him was jealousy. He was the
youngest, the kid who’d spent most of his life on academic probation, and
he’d achieved financial and professional success beyond theirs. When I
suggested as much, Trace had blown up at me and we hadn’t spoken for a
good week.
“Forget what they want,” I shot back. “What about us?”
“There is no us.”
His voice was hard and final. My brain told me to just leave it at that.
Hang on to what’s left of your fucking dignity. But my heart wanted to give
it another try.
“We can talk to management. If they’re on board, your team and your
coach have to fall in line. It wouldn’t be easy, but…we can do this
together,” I said patiently. “And I’ll be by your side.”
“Which is a problem in and of itself, isn’t it?”
A sneer pulled at his lips as I looked at him warily. I knew that sneer.
Words designed to hurt always followed. I’d boxed him in the proverbial
corner and now he had to claw his way out. Every fiber of my being ached
to head for the door, but I just stood there, my feet rooted in place, watching
him hurtle towards me in a semi made of pain.
“Do you think I could bring someone like you home to my family?” His
eyes were so cold, I should’ve been reduced to a pile of snow. “You were a
goddamned prostitute for crying out loud. How would that look in the
news?”
My hand started to hurt and it took me a few seconds to realize that I
was clenching my fist so tightly it was starting to ache. I relaxed my hand
with effort, blowing out a slow, unsteady breath. I reminded myself that
Trace King was nothing but a memory. I never had to let him or his harmful
ways in my life ever again.
It hadn’t been all wasted time, though. He’d taught me more than just
how to dress better and cook a perfect meal. He’d taught me that people
couldn’t be trusted, especially not with your heart. I planned to remember
all the lessons he’d never meant to teach me.
I swept the flowers off the counter and into the trash…where everything
Trace King belonged.
9
 ANDREW

F oxy: Why are there two subzero fridges in our kitchen

Me: Is this some sort of riddle
Me: Wait, I’m on an elliptical. I need to get off to think
Foxy: Don’t pretend you didn’t order them
Me: You said you wanted to do more
Me: Let’s do more
Foxy: You can’t just
Me: ….
Foxy: You just can’t
Me: ….
Me: Just so you know, I’m waiting patiently
Foxy: Just so you know, I just sighed so loudly that a paper flew off my
desk
Me: LOL
Me: Did I mention I’m busy
Foxy: Fine. On behalf of the center, the future families we will feed, and
the staff
Me: Yes
Foxy: Joshua Knox and the community at large
Me: Get to it
Foxy: Thank you ::grimace emoji::
Me: Was that so effing hard
Foxy: Yes. I think it took years off my life, AJ.
 Foxy: Years.
Me: Rofl

My time at the Harbor was flying by, and I was enjoying it a lot more than I
thought I would. So much so that my usual PT session on Wednesday with
Reggie was almost an intrusion. I usually looked forward to conditioning—
today, I kind of resented it.
I silently instructed myself to get a grip. This was my real life. My time
at the Harbor was very temporary and I needed to stay focused…even
though they were starting knitting class today. Netta, one of the
grandmothers of the kids, had volunteered to instruct the class once a week
if there was enough interest. There was so much interest, she’d added a
second class. I wasn’t sure how many signups were due to knitting fever
and how many stemmed from a desire to meet the TA, her corgi named
Ollie, but either way, I’d snagged the last spot.
I sighed wistfully.
At least Camilla had promised to make me something. My guess was a
scarf. Jesse heard rumors that it was going to be a thong, and promised to
try and deter her. I’d only shrugged. Either way, I was stoked.
“Fifteen minutes, AJ,” Reggie said as she checked my stats transmitting
from the treadmill. She would’ve preferred me in the HydroWorx, but my
SCRAM bracelet made that impossible. “Stretches next.”
Reggie was blond and blue-eyed with a body that got her the moniker
PT Barbie. She was used to the attention—working in the sports industry,
she’d better be—but I could see the low-key exasperation in her eyes when
she had to deal with the antics of the players and their over-the-top flirting.
She had nothing to worry about from me. She wasn’t the person
occupying the majority of my thoughts. No, that dubious honor belonged to
a certain center coordinator who still wouldn’t go out with me. It was
maddening because I knew he wanted to. It was also a relief because I had
no idea what I’d do if he accepted. I wasn’t a date kind of guy. Usually. But
for him, I thought it would be worth the effort.
I checked my watch and realized I had another ten minutes to go. “Dear
sweet Regan,” I began, and she shook her head with a grin.
 “Let’s not make it twenty, huh?”
“It’s pizza day.” My voice was close to a whine. “You know the
pepperoni and sausage go first.”
She readjusted the incline on my machine without looking up. “Then I
guess you’d better get a move on.”
I appreciated her frank honesty regarding my care—she was determined
to make me toe the line to optimize my recovery. She briefly rubbed the
back of my neck in encouragement, reminding me that her three girls were
so lucky to have her.
“But—”
“Get after it,” she barked, reminding me that she was also a black belt
with zero dollars in her fucks given account.
I got after it.
My mind drifted as I jogged, and an evil grin crossed my face as I
wondered if Jesse had gotten the grocery delivery yet. It was a standing
order for a year, and he would be able to add and remove items at will until
twenty-four hours before delivery. Surely he didn’t think I would just put
two big-ass commercial fridges in their kitchen without putting food in ’em.
He would probably yell, I thought gleefully. I sensed many, many
epithets blistering the air, all surrounding my name.
I was going to leave a mark at Rainbow Harbor. I didn’t believe in
doing anything without doing it well, and I was unexpectedly good with
those kids. Kids loved me in general, which was no surprise—I was a big
kid at heart. I was also big enough for them to jump on and ride, which
apparently little people enjoyed. But I never expected I could make a
difference in their lives. It was quickly becoming my addiction.
So was Jesse.
I’d already been attracted to him. Now after working together at the
Harbor, I liked him as a person—a prickly, little person with an ass that
wouldn’t quit and a mouth that probably should. I admired his work ethic.
His dedication seemed endless. I had a new appreciation for the things that
Jesse was responsible for…which was pretty much everything.
“Yo. A.J.” I blinked to see Reggie in front of me, a slight smile on her
face. “You still with me, dude?”
“Yeah. Of course.” I cleared my throat. “Just in the zone, you know?”
“Sure,” she said. “Let’s get after those stretches.”
 As I stepped off the machine, my legs felt like noodles. I waited a few
seconds to find my equilibrium, then headed for the mats. Reggie joined me
a few seconds later, and we sat on the floor doing stretches. Well, I did
anyway. Reggie sat on the floor in front of me, legs folded, watching and
commenting on my form.
“How does it feel?” she asked after a particularly deep stretch.
I didn’t look her way, resting my eyes as I leaned into it, both hands
wrapped around my calf as I rested my face on my leg. “My range of
motion isn’t bad. It only twinges when I push too hard.”
“That would probably be because I told you not to push too hard.” I
could hear the smile in her voice. “It’s going to get even better still. As long
as you do exactly as I say.”
I glanced over at her. I wasn’t quite as optimistic, especially seeing my
stats during training, which were nowhere near where they needed to be.
“You think I can come back?”
“If you want it enough,” she said simply.
Did I? I ignored the voice inside of me asking all those insidious
questions. Truthfully, I’d been on autopilot for a little while. I’d achieved
the dream my father and I had dreamed, and I was living the future we’d
imagined together. But I’d been pushing so hard to get here that I wasn’t
sure if I wanted to stay.
I’d gotten sidelined by a rookie trying to make his mark. I’d been a few
short steps of the endzone when Marchon Crowder of the Bengals headed
for me like a bus with no brakes. Just one of those things, the announcers
said. You couldn’t expect to play a contact sport like we did and not get
injured. But it felt more personal than that.
When he was a freshman in college, Crowder had posted some off-color
shit when Blue came out as bisexual. By the time they’d drafted Crowder, it
had all been swept under the rug—if you were good enough, an
organization could be motivated to make nearly anything disappear. But
screenshots were a son-of-a-bitch and the never forgot.
That game, I’d been trying to shake Crowder like a bad fucking rash.
And when he finally plowed into me, 330 pounds of super-charged muscle,
I went down like a sack of potatoes. It felt like my body went one way and
my knee went the other. I screamed in pain…which was a joy to do in front
of thirty thousand screaming fans who hadn’t understood—or cared—that
shit just got real. Crowder stood over me, a blur of orange and black with
his hands on his hips, looking properly concerned as I writhed on the field.
But I wondered.
As he popped out his mouthguard, I saw his mouth lift, so briefly that I
would’ve missed it if I hadn’t been staring. My wonder morphed into fury. I
wished I wasn’t about to be carted off the field into the Hall of Obscurity. I
wished I could get up on my own. I wished I could even move without
agony, but not so I could play. Fuck the game. Fuck the win. I just wanted
another shot to rip that motherfucker’s head off.
And there was the rub, right? I’d come out on my terms, determined to
live my life out loud, the way I wanted to. But there was a cost to that. I
looked down at my knee. I would heal and I would play again…this time.
What about the next, though?
Luckily, I didn’t have to answer that question today. And whatever
future I decided, I planned to do it with a nicely rehabbed knee.
“Yo!”
I looked up to see Everett with his face against the glass insert of the
door, looking like one of the kids in grade school who weaseled their way
out of class and ran the halls. And like that kid, he proceeded to blow hot
air on the glass and drew a smiley with Xs for eyes. I chuckled as he added
a circle for a mouth and stuck his tongue in it a few times.
I wondered at his maturity level that he’d do such a thing. I lamented at
mine because I found it hilarious.
When he opened the door and poked his head through the crack, I
grinned. “Don’t you have anything better to do?”
“I’m headed to the weight room.” He flexed a few times. At least he
didn’t follow that up with welcome to the gun show, which was a fucking
first. “Thought I’d stop by and cheer you up.”
“It’s going to take more than that weird-ass smiley face.”
He tsked. “And to think I saved you some pizza. I asked Sandy in the
cafeteria to set some aside for you.”
Now that was the kind of shit that got you on the top of a best friend
list. “Bro,” I breathed. And he grinned because ’nuff said.
Maybe things were looking up.
“Oh.” He snapped his fingers. “And Coach wants to see you.”
“Bro,” I said as my face fell.
 Maybe not.

I expected the ass chewing. And the reminders about Texas’s preseason
performance. I did not expect to be introduced to the new assistant coach. I
groaned as he strolled into Coach’s office.
“Oh God,” I greeted Blue Montgomery. I’m fairly certain that’s what
you say to the bane of your existence.
Blond and blue-eyed and well-built, he was the very picture of the all-
American football guy. Like someone had just snatched him from a pack of
Tops playing cards and wished him into 3D existence. Except instead of
marrying the head cheerleader, he’d bucked convention and snagged a
mouthy, sarcastic professor who was practically a genius but still had
trouble keeping the rules of the game straight.
Somewhere between Blue’s shower and his closet, Nike had thrown up
on him. His navy sweatpants, gray shirt, and white sneakers all had the
trademark swoosh. Guess he was fulfilling his contract to the letter. I was
tempted to put a kick me if you love Adidas sticker on his back.
“You’re supposed to be retired,” I accused.
“I am.” He gave me a little grin. “What up, tho?”
I turned to Coach Maxwell and demanded, “Is that appropriate language
for a coach?”
“He used it, so I guess it is.” He shrugged. “We’re going to let PT
handle your knee. He’s here to get you back where you need to be. Who
better to understand the pressure?”
“I’m here to help,” Blue said with absolutely zero undercurrents that I
could discern. When I narrowed my eyes, he held up his hands. “No ulterior
motive. I’m not coming back.”
“No matter how much money we threw at him,” Coach muttered a tad
resentfully.
“I thought you were sick of football,” I said.
He shrugged. “I thought I was. Turns out when I’m not using my body
like a battering ram on the field, I started loving it again.”
 “What does Kelly say about all this?” I asked. “He’s been looking
forward to your retirement for a long time.”
“I’m allowed, but thanks for your fake-ass concern.” His eyes sparkled.
“Kelly said I could as long as I didn’t try to make a comeback. According to
him, I’m not Tom Brady and I have enough championship rings.”
I blinked at him for a few seconds, fucking rocked. “Enough…enough
Super Bowl rings?” I checked, just to be sure.
Coach goggled at such blasphemy and I couldn’t blame him. Strung
together in that sequence, the words didn’t even make sense. “That’s just
not possible,” he finally said.
“Thank you,” Blue said with feeling.
We all took a moment of silence to acknowledge the very wrongness of
such thinking. After one last shake of his head, Coach set his sights on me
again. “I want you to work closely with Montgomery. I brought you the
fucking blueprint. Now make a fucking copy.”
I stiffened, but Blue was already on it. “McAdams has his own skills.”
He gave me a crooked smile. “We just have to get his knee in good shape,
but then he’s going to do it his way.”
“As long as that way involves winning, I don’t give a good goddamn.”
“Love the pep talk.” I tried to temper the defensiveness in my tone. All
the reasons they’d dubbed me Allstate were still true. I had good hands on
the field and fumble wasn’t in my vocabulary. “Have I ever given you a
reason to doubt me?”
Because irony is and always would be a bitch, my SCRAM bracelet
happily buzzed against my ankle.
Coach stared.
Buzzz. Buzzz.
Blue stared.
Buzzzzz.
I sat back in my seat with a huff. The damned thing was probably
sending data, which it did randomly, and I silently urged it to shut the fuck
up. I wanted to get back up on my high horse before the damned thing
wandered off.
“So that happened,” Blue said when it finally stopped vibrating.
When I continued to sit there, building my monument to chill, Coach
slapped his desk. “I'm sorry, I didn’t realize I was paying you millions to
lounge. Get out of my office, Allstate.”
“Maybe we should call your ass Liberty Mutual until you’re back in
shape,” Blue said with a grin.
I glared at his back as I followed him out of the office. We passed a
couple of people in the halls that greeted Blue with an enthusiasm I
reserved for floofy puppies.
“Bruh!” Dane ran up from behind us and slapped him on the back of the
head, a move that Blue returned with a grin. Dane was in workout sweats, a
sweating water bottle in one hand and his phone in the other. “The fuck you
doing here? I was just getting used to not seeing that ugly mug.”
Blue beamed like he was holding up the heir apparent in The Lion King.
“You’re looking at the new assistant coach.”
“Fuck yes!” Dane was so stoked that I started to fear for his safety. And
mine, as he punched me in the shoulder to include me in the celebration. “It
hasn’t been the same without you in the workout room. This is gonna be
tight.”
I dunno, it felt a little loose to me.
I gestured toward the doors to the workout facility. “I’ll catch up with
you guys later. I’m gonna get started.”
“Later, bro,” Dane said, fist-bumping me. He threw an arm around
Blue’s shoulders. “My girl wants to do dinner with you and Kelly this
weekend. You free?”
Yet another thing Blue has that I don’t, I groused. A stable relationship
with the man he loved. I walked away to the sound of them ribbing each
other. My primary question remained unanswered. Why was he even here?
He didn’t need the money. He couldn’t be bored with retirement yet.
He’d left with plans to expand his family with Kelly and lay back and get
fat. Wait, I’m sorry, not fat—thick. Kelly informed me that there was a
difference, and I knew better than to question his expertise. Either way, I
wasn’t sure what part of getting fat/thick and relaxing involved coming
back to this facility and running me through drills. People already compared
me to Blue too much. The last thing I needed was a side-by-side
comparison.
“Hey, hold up!”
I glanced back to see Blue jogging to catch up, and I sighed as he fell
into a walk beside me. “You're like a bad fucking penny.”
 “A bad fucking penny who is going to keep your ass from getting cut.”
He dropped the joking. “What the fuck is going on with you anyway?”
“Nothing,” I muttered. “You never blow off any steam?”
“I was never stupid enough to get a DUI, no.”
“So I’ve heard,” I said dryly.
“Hey.” His voice softened a bit. “I’m going to help you get back to
where you need to be. Once an Outlaw, always an Outlaw, right?”
I searched his expression for the truth of that and his blue eyes were
guileless. Was it that simple? Just…support in its purest form?
I felt unexpectedly emotional about that shit. Part of Blue’s magic as a
respected veteran on the team was pulling people together. Some might not
like him or even want him on the team—and fuck had there been a lot of
that after the whole coming out situation—but everyone respected his game.
Respected him as a person. I was starting to see why.
He held out his fist and I bumped it. “Let’s get after it.”

It was the best training session I’d had in a while.

Blue didn’t say anything as he watched me cool down with some
stretches. Instead, he just smiled before downing three-quarters of a bottle
of Powerade. Guess it was thirsty work living rent-free in my head all day.
“I want to do HIIT work tomorrow,” I grumbled.
“You’re doing yoga,” he informed me cheerfully. “Tight ends are big
guys but we need to be graceful on our feet. Right now, you’re about as
graceful as a herd of buffalo.”
“I’m plenty graceful,” I protested…maybe a little louder than I
intended. “When I have a football in these hands, I’m a freaking ballerina.”
Dane and Carson stopped talking to harass me with whistles. “You don’t
hear that too often from a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound ball player,” Carson
said with a laugh.
“Also, no the fuck you aren’t,” Dane added. “You stepped on my toe the
other day and I thought that shit was broken.”
“You fuckers know what I meant,” I shot back. “And I’m two-thirty. Get
it right.”
 “You’re about ten pounds over goal, is what you are,” Blue corrected. “I
looked at your chart. With all this fucking exercise, you shouldn’t have
problems making weight.”
“I’m conditioning—”
“To have a bigger ass? I’d say you’re all set on that,” he said, blue eyes
sparkling. “Stop by nutrition and get your diet overhauled. I don’t intend to
spend any more valuable time watching you drag ass.”
I put my earlier warm and fuzzies in the shredder and crosscut them.
When he put me back up on the treadmill, I lit the tattered pieces of our
friendship on fire and scattered the ashes to the wind. The day that fucker
got inducted to the Hall of Fame, I was going to be waiting at his ceremony
with two dozen rotten eggs.
10
 ANDREW

J esse was watching me again.

I was sure of it. If I had to guess, he was probably standing next to
his judgmental little window in his judgmental little office, his judgmental
little face pulled in a frown. He’d made it clear that he wanted to keep
things professional. He was also as stingy as ever with any personal
information. And frankly, I was a little tired of asking.
I glanced up at his window again.
I couldn’t even virtually stalk him properly. He didn’t have any social
media to speak of unless it related to the center. He never posted any
fucking pictures. The only online proof that he wasn’t a figment of my
imagination were pictures posted by the staff. He was usually working in
those—volunteering someplace or building something. There was even one
where he was dressed as a vampire and handing out grab bags on
Halloween. He hadn’t been all that committed to the costume—throwing on
a cape with some jeans and a graphic tee does not a vampire make.
I looked at that picture for a little while. He was especially gorgeous
when he smiled, which was not often, not for long, and rarely at me. That
was okay, though. His frowns worked in my fantasies, too. He hated the fact
that I could affect him so strongly, and I fucking lived for that shit.
I waved but the half-turned blinds of his office window didn’t move an
inch.
Oh, he’s good.
 I lifted the bottom of my shirt to wipe my face, exposing my sweaty
abs. When I finally dropped my shirt, the blinds were closed. I huffed out a
laugh and refocused on Harper, a kid who seemed determined to become
my actual shadow.
When he’d asked me to practice with him, I couldn’t say no. His
boyfriend, Travis, had joined us, setting up camp on the grass with his
netbook. Frankly, it seemed like he’d rather be inside but he wasn’t going
anywhere until Harper did. He also didn’t seem to like me very much.
Now and again, he looked up from his computer and shouted something
encouraging. I wasn’t sure if he knew anything about football…or sports in
general. It was hard to keep a straight face when he instructed Harper to go
for the easy layup.
Harper understood the rules of the game, but he wasn’t that great at it.
No matter. I slapped the football a few times before I sent it back. I
tempered my throw, trying to remember there was a scrawny fifteen-year-
old kid on the other end of it, not an Outlaw ready to sacrifice life and limb
to make the play.
I grinned at Harper’s whoop as he ran for it. “I got it, I got it,” he
shouted the whole way. The ball started to make the downward arc and he
wasn’t in the trajectory. Like, at all. He poured on the speed, arms pumping.
“I got it!”
“He don’t got it,” Travis observed.
I shushed as the ball bounced on the ground. Harper snagged it off the
grass. He fumbled immediately, kicked it with his sneaker, and dove for it
again. Yowza. He finally held up the ball in a pose more triumphant than the
Statue of Liberty with her torch. I bit my lip to keep from laughing.
“Told you I had it,” he declared.
Travis snorted, and I whispered, “Shut it,” out of the corner of my
mouth before saying loudly, “you sure did.”
I beckoned for Harper to throw the ball back and he did, showing the
same amount of lackluster technique he’d been showing all afternoon. I
lunged forward and caught it as he made a face. “I’m sorry. I know I suck.”
“You don’t suck. You need practice. You also need to throw at the
person, not the ground.” I turned the football in my hands and he watched
carefully as I demonstrated the proper way to throw it. “Okay, go long.”
 I sent him a beauty that did its best to land in his hands. And yet…I
watched in dismay as the ball bounced off his shoulder. “I got it,” he yelled
as he went for it.
I sighed. “Yep.”
He scooped up the ball and trotted back over. His phone started to ring
where he’d tossed it on his book bag, and Travis said, “Phone,” as if we
didn’t have ears.
Harper ignored that as he told me earnestly, “I’m better at soccer.”
He was gangly with strong legs, so I could see that. For his sake, I was
also glad that the sport he loved didn’t require the use of his hands. When it
was clear he wasn’t going to say anything more, I asked the obvious
question. “Why don’t you play soccer then?”
“I do. I’m on my school’s team. But my dad likes football, so I’m
hoping to try out for that, too.” He flipped a long hank of caramel-colored
hair out of his eye. “He and my uncle tried out for the Dolphins, you know.”
I waited for the end of that statement, and it took me a few seconds to
realize that it was finished. “Ah, I see.” That was his father’s claim to fame,
his moment of glory, and he was determined that Harper continue his
legacy. “Well, your dad had the chance to play the sport he loved. This is
your shot.”
“Which I’ve said about a bazillion times,” Travis said, not looking up
from his drawing. “There’s like, literally no point anymore.”
I hid a smile as Harper sent his boyfriend a frown. “I want to play
football,” he said stubbornly. “It’s already going to be a disappointment that
I’m…you know.”
“Gay,” I said loudly. Because there wasn’t a damn thing wrong with
that.
He flushed bright red even as he nodded. “Yeah. That.”
“There’s more to you than sports, Harper.”
There’s more to me than sports, too. I reminded myself of that, often. I’d
seen a lot of that in the NFL. Some guys played until they couldn’t, and it
wasn’t for the money or the fame. They just didn’t know who they were
without football. I planned to leave the game long before they had to cart
me off the field on a stretcher. I didn’t know what I wanted to do yet, but
I’d figure it out.
 Maybe…something at a community center. I enjoyed the work more
than I thought I would. Maybe one day I could be the director of athletics.
Not at the Harbor, though. I grinned at the thought of Joshua Knox issuing
me a staff ID badge. Jesse would murder me before I could even proudly
hang it on a lanyard.
Harper’s phone rang again and Travis leaned over to peer at it. “Dude.
It’s your mom. You know how she gets when you ignore her calls.”
“I know, I know.” He checked his watch and groaned. “Crap, I’m late.”
Harper jogged over to his book bag, grabbed it off the ground, and slung
it over his shoulder. I followed slower, flipping the football. I always felt
better with it in my hands. And yes, I knew a shrink would have a field day
with that.
“I gotta go,” Harper said a little shyly. “You’ll be here tomorrow?”
“Um….” I reviewed my schedule in my head and realized very quickly
that could not be less possible. I had a meeting with a sports drink company
that was looking for a new spokesperson. Ari hadn’t minced words. You
should thank your lucky stars that anyone wants to sponsor you right now. I
called in a favor. Don’t let me down.
Missing the meeting would mean certain death. Ari didn’t often do any
manual labor, but I was pretty sure he’d make an exception for the
introduction of his well-manicured hands to my unsuspecting neck.
“I can’t make it.” As Harper’s face fell fifteen stories, I scrambled to
catch it. “Maybe I can come to your next soccer practice.”
“Really?”
He looked like I’d just offered him a slice of the moon, and that
solidified an iffy plan into a sure fucking thing. I wasn’t sure anyone had
ever looked so excited for my company. Not without me giving them
something tangible.
“Yeah, really.” I ruffled his hair as his phone started ringing again.
“You’d better go. If you ignore your mother’s calls three times in a row, she
just appears out of your phone as a hologram.”
He rolled his eyes but finally got moving in the right direction. Travis
was hot on his heels. Even as they took off, I could hear him harassing
Harper for gawking and flirting. No, I don’t care how unbelievably hot he is,
we’re supposed to be in love, he grumbled.
I snorted, silently wishing Harper luck with his handful.
 I glanced at my watch and realized I’d spent an hour more than I’d
intended to. Working with kids had a way of sucking you in—they needed
so much and soaked up your attention like needy little sponges. It had been
a long time since anyone made me feel useful for something other than
football.
When I walked into the building, I nearly plowed into Jesse. I muttered
sorry on autopilot, even though it wasn’t my fault. Who would’ve expected
to find him standing there right at the door, peering out of the glass cutout
like a weirdo?
He crossed his arms as he gave me a severe frown, and I decided not to
tell him that he didn’t look imposing when he did that. He just looked hot as
hell. He had on a soft gray shirt and worn black jeans that could not have
cupped his ass better. Against my will, my gaze was drawn to his mouth
again. It was the kind of mouth that people pumped their lips with filler for.
And I’d give just about anything to see it stretched around my cock.
Fat chance.
He didn’t beat around the bush. “Harper told me you promised to go to
his practice on Thursday.”
“Yeah? So?”
“So you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep.”
He sure was less hot when he opened that mouth of his. He was also
lucky I didn’t offend easily. Most of that was probably from my background
in sports. I wasn’t sure Coach Maxwell knew how to say McAdams without
yelling it, usually followed by the instruction to act like you want to fucking
be here.
“That’s good advice,” I said mildly. “And here’s some for you—stop
pretending you know anything about me that you can’t read on TMZ.”
His chin tilted pugnaciously, which really shouldn’t make me want to
drag my fingers across his stubbled jaw. “I know enough,” he shot back.
“Harper already thinks you hung the moon. Your words mean something to
him.”
“You don’t think I know that?”
“I think you live in a world where people say we should catch up
sometime with no intention of doing so, or I’ll call you for sure when they
don’t even have your number.”
 That steady gaze was cool and knowing. I flushed a little because yeah,
guilty. If I called everyone back who wanted to speak to me, I’d have to
surgically attach my phone to my hand. But fuck, it was so irritating when
Jesse’s little assumptions were right.
“What’s your point?” I growled.
“Don’t fuck with my kids,” he said softly. “You’re only going to be here
for a short amount of time, and you’re only here because you have to be. An
egotistical ball player with a DUI under his belt and more money than sense
is not the kind of role model they need.”
Jesse looked sorry—if defiant—but he didn’t take it back. That was a
lot of courage for someone who only came up to my shoulder.
I wavered in between feeling judged and realizing that I’d earned his
judgment. It was kind of hard to defend yourself when you were wearing an
ankle monitor. SCRAM bracelets should come equipped with a label that
reads, tell me without telling me that your life isn’t going the way you
planned.
What the fuck could Jesse know about making mistakes anyway? Even
patron saints would tell him to get a life. He got paid peanuts to help kids
and put a quarter of those peanuts back into the center. He did it as quietly
as possible, but everyone knew.
I wished I could get this ridiculous want for him out of my system.
Because even as prickly as he was, I wanted to push him against the wall
and kiss him until he was a boneless, pliant mess in my hands.
I brushed past him before I did something that we both would regret.
“See you, Fox.”
“You have a half-hour left,” he called after me.
“Write me up.”
11
 JESSE

J oshua looked at the back of the computer tower, then at the cords in his
hand, as if they would magically connect themselves. “Where does this
go?”
I was a little busy untangling my own set of cords. I glanced up from
my position on the floor. “Does it look like I know?”
“Not really, but you’re doing a damn fine job of faking that shit.”
I huffed out a laugh. That…was pretty much my life’s adage in a
nutshell. I wasn’t all that adept with technology, but I bumbled by. I knew
enough to get everything plugged in and in place. Molly assured me that
she could handle the network shit.
I was still floored at the donation of computers. They’d arrived early in
the morning, courtesy of the Silver Arrow Learning Group. Apparently, the
wife of an Outlaws running back was on the board. Silver Arrow had
overhauled their systems and deemed the computers relics. They were in
such good shape, they might as well have been still wrapped in plastic.
So I applied myself to hooking up monitors and keyboards all day. Even
as I crawled around on the floor, trying to keep all the cords organized so no
one tripped and fucking died, I silently acknowledged the obvious—I was
an ass and I needed to apologize.
Who was I to say who could be a role model and who couldn’t? Maybe
part of me was a little jealous. McAdams vibed with the kids in a way that
had taken me years to achieve. They trusted him. He was this big, laid-back
guy who knew how to be fun and didn’t stress about being perfect. I didn’t
know how to embrace all the mistakes the old me had made. Instead, I’d
done such a good job of making him disappear that mob bosses studied my
technique.
After another half hour, I lost Joshua. A text from his son, Dale, was all
it took. He got off the floor and plopped down in a chair, muttering
something about his poor knees. The sound of his pecking as he texted was
soothing as I continued what had to be one of the most annoying tasks in
the world, plugging in monitors and testing them one by one.
“God, will you look at this? She’s getting so big.” Joshua turned his
phone around to show me pictures of his three-year-old granddaughter,
Allyson. Judging from the series of pictures, her primary hobbies were
screaming, giggling, and eating things messily. “It goes so fast, you know?”
I nodded, sticking another cord in hopefully the right slot. I felt
resistance a hair too late and pulled it back out, cursing when it warped.
That’s what I deserved for taking the gorilla with a toy he doesn’t
understand approach to hooking up a computer.
My inattention was the only excuse I had for asking my next question.
“Any word when you can visit?” I asked, trying to unbend the fucked-up
prong with my fingers. I realized Joshua had gone completely still and
replayed the words in my head. “Fuck. I didn’t mean…sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
Judging from his slumped shoulders, it wasn’t. I felt an unjustified burst
of anger at Dale. His father had made some mistakes, no doubt about it. But
forgiveness…wasn’t something that was owed. I sighed. Dale had the right
to be upset forever if that’s what he needed.
“He needs time, Jess.”
“I know that. I just want—”
“You think I don’t? But these things can’t be rushed. At least that’s what
the therapist says.” He shrugged. “I’m just happy he’s willing to keep the
lines of communication open.”
“So am I. It’s just that…we all make mistakes, Josh.”
“Like shutting people out?” He raised an eyebrow. “For years I’ve been
after you to go out and find someone that makes you happy. Now he falls
right into your lap like a ripe mango and you’re all, I was hoping for a
coconut, but thanks.”
“Okay, you’ve lost me with all the fruit talk.”
 “Then I’ll speak plainly. I’ve seen the way he looks at you, Jess.”
I wasn’t above stalling my ass off. “Who?”
“A certain big football player who shall remain nameless.”
“You need to get your eyes checked.”
“My eyesight is perfect. He looks at you a lot, especially when you’re
not looking. And I’ve seen you looking at him, too. That way,” Before I
could dignify that garbage with a response, his mouth kicked up. “Damned
uncomfortable is what it is.”
“Keep talking nonsense and it’s off to the home with you.”
“I’m sharp as a tack.”
“More like a rusty old pushpin that keeps falling out of the bulletin
board.” I smiled at his bark of laughter. “And since when are you in my
business?”
“Since always. This job can become an obsession,” he said. “There’s
always going to be one more thing that you could’ve done, one more person
that you could’ve helped. It can take over your life, heart, and soul.”
I frowned. I’d heard a version of that same song and dance from several
exes, but never Joshua. He should understand my motivation better than
anyone. “Is there some reason you’re telling me this now?”
“Because I don’t want you to let life pass you by. And stop giving me
that betrayed look,” he said mildly. “I just want you to find balance. While
you’re busy changing lives, don’t forget to have one of your own.”
Maybe he had a point. Not the part about letting that overprivileged ball
player into my carefully constructed life, of course. But I spent most of my
waking hours at the center. Any schmoozing I did over lunches was with
clients or potential clients. That didn’t leave a lot of time for cultivating
friendships, much less relationships.
“I’m not completely hopeless, you know. Greg asked me out a few
times.” I bit my lip. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to go out for coffee or
something.”
“Greg?” Joshua didn’t look as pleased as I thought, especially
considering I was taking his very unsolicited advice. “Isn’t Greg your
contact at the homeless shelter?”
“Yeah. He’s a great guy.”
“I’m not saying he isn’t. But he’s just as involved as you with charity
work.”
 “All the better for him to understand the demands of the position.”
“You don’t need to date a Jesse clone. You need someone who will
shake up your world. To bring a little fun into your life. Someone who can
be goofy when necessary.” He suddenly looked like he was hiding a smile.
“Someone who’ll steal your favorite coffee mug and make you chase him
down the hallway to get it back.”
I glowered because that hadn’t been the least bit funny. When I’d finally
caught McAdams, he’d held my mug above his head. I instinctively jumped
for it, just two little hops really, which sent him into paroxysms of laughter.
I huffed as I realized there was no way I was reaching above his head
without a fucking stepladder.
“I think he has a growth hormone imbalance,” I muttered.
Joshua snorted because he played for team tall and burly, too. “Short
person says what?”
“Watch it.”
His eyes gleamed with amusement. “You need someone who can light a
fire inside of you. Someone who can make you flustered with no trouble at
all, so much so that you put salt in your coffee when he compliments your
eyes.”
I scowled because what happened in the breakroom stayed in the
breakroom. Also, salty coffee was gross. I’d made a good attempt at
drinking some of it, just so McAdams would know I meant to do that. I
certainly wasn’t distracted by his stupid, gorgeous face.
I wasn’t sure if he bought it, though. He’d finally snatched the cup from
my grasp with an astonished, Good Lord, Fox. He muttered to himself as he
dumped the coffee in the sink and made some more. I only caught the tail
end of stubborn and ridiculously cute before he presented me with a fresh
cup. Joshua had grinned the entire time, pretending to unwrap his burrito
for lunch. Never had a man unwrapped so slowly, just so he could watch the
entire exchange before moseying off to his office.
But what was his point, anyway? Yes, I liked Andrew McAdams.
Maybe I liked him a lot. No need to make a federal case out of it. Lots of
people liked him. Tuesday had suddenly become our busiest fucking day
and there was no need to wonder why. His personality drew in people like a
crying lost puppy carrying another crying lost puppy on his back.
 I thought about that all-too cute scenario for a moment and how I would
rescue the fuck out of those puppies. “Maybe we could talk about
something else?”
“Sensitive spot, eh?”
I shook a handful of USB cords at Joshua. “Look, I can either plug these
in or wrap them around your nosy neck.”
He didn’t look concerned in the least, his hands linked over his stomach,
a small smile on his face...at my expense, of course. But at least he wasn’t
thinking about his rocky relationship with Dale. For that, he could poke fun
at me all he wanted.
“Hey, Jesse.”
I glanced up from my crouched position to see Harper standing there,
shifting from one foot to the other. Judging from the backpack dangling
from his fingertips, he’d come straight from school.
Fuck, things were sure different from my learning days. I needed a
locker and a rolling backpack for all my books and crap. Whatever was in
that nylon drawstring deal Harper had could probably fit in his pockets. Of
course, back then my buggy had been in the repair shop, and some chap
named Edison had been going on and on about something called a
lightbulb.
“Hey, Harp. What’s up?”
“I saw the light on and thought I’d see if you need help.”
“I’m almost done here, but thanks.”
“When can I use a computer?” He asked eagerly. “I need to check my
portal.”
I chuckled because I knew his offer had been pure bullshit. The kids
were usually all over our two older computers like bees on honey, and there
had been a lot of flak at my “temporarily out of order” sign. I’d win ’em
back, especially when they saw the new improved setup. Our previously
woefully lacking computer room was now a “lab” with ten computers and
fast Internet. Well, there would be fast Internet when Molly did her magic.
“Go ahead,” I said, waving him on. “One of the older ones, though.
These aren’t hooked up yet.”
Harper made a face even as he slunk over to the relic with the yellowing
keyboard. Joshua and I asked him a few questions about his day as we
worked, nothing too intrusive but trying to show interest. It was remarkably
peaceful as he spent five-point-six seconds checking his school portal, and
then started browsing the net.
Maybe a little too peaceful. I gave him the side eye as I untangled cords.
Harper wasn’t much of a talker, but he usually did better than one- or two-
word answers. Joshua gave up after a few minutes and got busy breaking
down the boxes the computers came in.
I tried another tack. “So…everything at school going okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re at your mom’s house tonight, right?”
“Yup.”
I puffed out my cheeks as I thought. Usually, his time at his mother’s
was a little better than his time at his dad’s, so that couldn’t be it. “How’d
the game go?”
“It was just practice,” he muttered. “Not a game. Jeez.”
Ah. Keep poking the bear long enough and he growls out a warning. Or
mauls you to death. I guess it depends on the bear, and maybe what he had
for breakfast.
“Let me guess. Your dad didn’t show?”
“No, he actually made it today.”
Harper didn’t look all that jazzed about it. Joshua widened his eyes at
me and shrugged. It was a catch-22 kind of situation. When his dad didn’t
show, Harper felt slighted. When he did show, Harper felt slighted. I
couldn’t blame him overmuch. His father usually spent most of his time
telling Harper what he’d done wrong. But that wasn’t new, and usually
didn’t put him in such a quiet, introspective mood.
And then I thought about something that was supposed to be different
about today’s practice. “McAdams didn’t show, did he?” I practically
growled.
“He was probably busy,” he muttered.
Who the fuck isn’t? When something was important, you made time. I
bit back several replies before settling on a terse, “Sure.”
This was exactly what I’d been trying to avoid. I should’ve never agreed
to let him work with the kids—they had enough disappointment in their
lives without actively courting more. I should’ve assigned him to trash duty
or cleaning something. That’s if he even knew how.
Harper sent me an apprehensive look. “It’s not that big a deal.”
 “Don’t minimize your feelings,” Joshua instructed quietly. “You’re
allowed to feel disappointed and you have no obligation to hide negative
feelings.”
Harper and I sighed in unison. Joshua wasn’t wrong, but I wouldn’t
mind if he kept some of the techniques he learned in therapy to himself. I
missed dealing with my problems the old-fashioned way—burying them,
pouring concrete over the spot, and then having a slice of celebratory cake.
“I told everybody he was coming to see me play,” Harper finally said.
“Pete said there’s no way, and I said, yes way, just fucking watch. By the
end of practice, Pete was laughing his ass off. He’s such a fucking douche.”
Harper was so down, I didn’t bother to correct him on his language.
This time. “I’m sorry that happened to you.”
He shrugged. “It’s whatever at this point. He’s busy. He doesn’t have
time for my shitty little practice. Don’t bother him about it, okay?”
Bother him about it? I wanted to string him up by his spoiled thumbs.
And never mind the twinge of guilt I felt thinking about the hard work that
he’d put in at the Harbor. He wasn’t dialing it in like I’d expected. And I
knew he had a busier schedule than most. But I did warn him about
promising things he couldn’t fucking do when it came to my kids.
“Sure thing,” I said in carefully measured tones. I wasn’t fooling either
of us, and Harper sent me another anxious look. I tried again. “I’ll do my
best.”
Harper muttered something under his breath, and I hid a smile as I got
back to work under the desk. I might wear glasses sometimes to read, but
my hearing was fantastic.
“Language,” I reminded him, and I could practically hear his eyes roll.
After he finished flattening boxes, Joshua stood and stretched. “Harp,
you mind helping me haul these outside?”
“No problem,” he said, pushing out of his chair. He grabbed a handful
and loped off to the recycling bin.
I plugged in another monitor, yanking my hand back when it sparked.
“The wiring in this place is absolute shit,” I snapped.
Joshua didn’t bother to respond because we already knew that. We also
knew that my sudden desire to chew nails had nothing to do with the
computers.
“Give him a chance to explain himself,” he said quietly.
 I didn’t need pretty words. I liked action. I’d known from the beginning
exactly who he was. Hell, I was glad he was living down to my
expectations. I wasn’t disappointed at all. Not even a little bit.
12
 JESSE

F riday was movie day at the center. We usually put on a movie in the rec
room in the afternoon—sometimes a double feature—and the student of
the week always got to select the movie. Then everyone else got to
complain about the winner’s choice. Loudly.
The kids had already argued about who’d sit in the bean bag chairs, who
would get the last bag of Cheetos, and why someone ate all the good candy
from the bowl. True enough, I could’ve bought more Snickers, but I thought
watching a candy death match was way more fun.
I ignored their bickering as I scrolled through the prompts on the TV.
Getting the right movie cued up was always a pain in the ass. It didn’t help
that I never remembered my login credentials. I silently lamented that you
could no longer put a VHS cassette in a machine and press Play. Then I
thanked Father Time for allowing me to live to see a hundred.
“I think this movie came out like a billion years ago,” Ben said,
flopping into a bean bag chair. “I’m not watching any animated bullshit.”
“It’s throwback movie night,” I said, squinting at the menu. “And watch
your fu—freaking language, kid.”
“How about the one with the panda?” Pippa paused in front of me,
willing me with her eyes to capitulate.
“How about no?” I craned my neck to look around her. It was annoying
that these kids were getting taller than me. Just wait until I found some
sneakers with lifts. “You wanna have a seat? Turns out you’re not
invisible.”
 She sat, sprawling on the carpet, but not before she made one more
request. “What about Encanto?”
“I can’t-o,” I said, finally cueing up the movie. “This one was Joy’s
pick.”
“They made it into a play and everything,” she said importantly, not
looking up from her phone. “It’s a classic.”
“You don’t say,” I said, amused.
A classic? Good Lord. I shook my head as the movie started to play, and
put the remote on the TV stand. It was a sad day when your childhood
favorites had to be lugged out of the Disney vault as some whippersnapper
blinked in wonder. And fuck, did I just use whippersnapper in a non-
comedic way?
I could only hope that when I crumbled to dust someone remembered to
turn on the Roomba. I headed back to my office.
There were invoices to go through and two donors to call back who
needed tax forms. I also needed to get an estimate from Got ’Em Critter
Fumigation because something—emphasis on something—had gotten into
Molly’s snack stash in her bottom drawer. Whatever it was, it only came out
at night and freaking loved Oreos. My guess of Cookie Monster was not
well received, and I hurriedly assured her that I’d take care of it.
So anyway, I had plenty to do. There was no reason for me to be on
McAdams’s Instagram page. None. He seemed to delight in posting thirst
traps of him working out for his all too eager followers. And who the hell
needed a million followers anyway? It was ridiculous.
He posted food pictures sometimes, too. I peered at a picture of his
morning smoothie. Looked gross. The acai bowl topped with blueberries
looked a little better, but just barely. Hmph. If you went by his Instagram
page, the key to looking like he did was eating leafy things. And working
out on different contraptions until you were ding-dong dead.
Nah, I’m good. I took another bite of my granola bar which had an
extremely high percentage of chocolate. I mean, oats were like the fourth
ingredient, so that was good, right? I checked the back of the wrapper
again. The healthy stuff began right behind sugar, corn syrup, and mini,
semi-sweet chocolate chips—all items that went under the category of
things I need to live. I took another hearty bite.
 “Hey, there you are.” I looked up to find the object of my inappropriate
thoughts standing there, dressed in gray sweats with the Outlaws logo and a
black t-shirt that clung to his biceps. “I have a question for you.”
“Shoot,” I said, clicking out of his page faster than a Pornhub link.
Then I deleted my browsing history just in case. Google, my partner in
crime, lazily queried how long I’d like to cover my tracks. For all time. I
clicked the option anxiously. Must I state the obvious?
“Well? What do you think?”
I looked up into McAdams’s expectant face and realized I’d completely
missed anything he’d said. Probably because I’d been deleting things like
the FBI was about to confiscate my laptop.
I hoped against hope that my cheeks weren’t flushed. “Um, what?”
“I wanted to get your thoughts on creating an athletic director position
for our new sports program. Joshua told me to run it by you.”
Our. And just like that, I was pissed. I fumed, wondering how he could
take me from zero to sixty so quickly. There was nothing our about
Rainbow Harbor…at least, not where he was concerned. He was a
temporary guest slumming it before he’d go back to his real life.
“I think we can’t afford it,” I said shortly. “Nice talk.”
“I’d offer to pay for it, but I have the feeling—”
“Your feeling is correct.” I didn’t want him funding shit. The kids
would get used to the program and then he’d forget all about it once he got
back to his real life. “Now if that’s all—”
“Don’t shut me down just yet,” he said affably, and I wondered what
kind of brush it would take to ruffle his feathers. “We could staff the
position as a rotating volunteer kind of thing. That would work until you
had enough funding to hire someone permanently.”
“And just where would we get these magical volunteers?”
He sat on the edge of my desk like he belonged there, which didn’t help
my concentration at all. “I’ve got a few people in mind who could fit the
bill.”
Long term, though? He didn’t seem to realize how big of a commitment
this place could be. It sucked up your time better than a Dyson. I mean, just
look at how he’d flaked on Harper’s practice. I tamped down a flare of
anger, reminding myself that I’d vowed not to mention it.
“All I’m saying is that it’s a big ask,” I said tactfully.
 “Not as big as you’d think,” he argued. “I already floated the idea to
some of the players and a few guys are onboard. They’re like big kids
anyway, and exercise is what we do.”
“I don’t want the kids to be disappointed. Especially when people
promise them things and don’t follow through.”
At his silence, I realized that yes, he could extract subtext from
supposedly harmless conversation. He narrowed his eyes. “There something
you’d like to say to me? Something about Harper, perhaps?”
“Nope.”
“I got a little tied up on Thursday.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“Which is almost worse,” he said, irritation clear in his tone. “If you’d
have asked me, I could’ve told you I had a very good reason for not
showing up, and you could’ve avoided looking like a dick.”
“Okay, McAdams.” I stopped pretending to even see the invoices I was
rifling through and tossed them on the desk. I leaned back in my chair and
skewered him with my gaze. “Please tell me what your reasoning is for
disappointing Harper. Especially when he didn’t ask you to come to his
practice. You volunteered and then you flaked.”
“Okay, Fox, I will.” He gestured at his ankle monitor. “This stupid thing
monitors your skin for alcohol content and I forgot to use an alcohol-free
mouthwash. My electronic monitoring officer is a real douche and had a fit,
so I had to report to his office immediately.”
The only sound in my office was the wind whooshing out of my sails.
As far as excuses go, that wasn’t half-bad. I resisted the urge to squirm in
my chair, wishing I had something to hide behind other than a sheepish
expression. “Oh.”
“I also explained and apologized to Harper.”
I checked the balance in my word bank and yup, I still only had the one
word. I made another withdrawal. “Oh.”
He made a sound suspiciously close to a laugh as he pushed off my desk
and stood. “Come with me.”
When I didn’t move quickly enough, he held out his hand. I had no
choice but to take it. Either that or else look like I was afraid to even touch
him, which I absolutely was not. He pulled me to my feet and drew me over
to the window. Just that little bit of touching had my skin buzzing, which
was ridiculous. Whose stupid plan was it to keep things platonic and
professional again? Oh, that’s right. Mine.
I shied away a few inches…then a few more, hoping that he wouldn’t
notice. My hope was in vain. A little half-smile crept over his mouth as he
gave me a considering look. “You okay over there?”
“Of course.” I knew my cheeks were flushed, but I lifted my chin
anyway. “Don’t I look okay?”
His half-smile grew as he gave me a long, thorough once-over. “I
thought I wasn’t supposed to be looking at you that way anymore. Unless
you’ve changed your mind….”
I wasn’t about to touch that with a ten-foot, sexed-up pole. Instead, I
looked out at the field, which was full of kids. They were taking advantage
of every activity McAdams set up out there. I hated to admit it, but it looked
amazing.
And the smug bastard knew it.
“What do you think?” He asked.
“It’s alright,” I said airily, and he chuckled.
He and the kids planted mature shrubs around the edge of the chain link
fence for privacy. The field was separated into three sections with separate
activities going in each, and there was a pop-up shed that held all the sports
equipment.
“Fine, it’s amazing,” I admitted. “It’s okay to be bad at things, you
know.”
He huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, but I’m bad at plenty.”
I frowned at the little undercurrent to his words. What on earth would
he have to be insecure about? And why did I care so much that someone
would dare to make him doubt himself? Must be the social conscience in
me. Or Joshua’s therapy talk was starting to seep into my brain against my
will.
I couldn’t help but ask. “What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means you’re not looking the right way,” he said evasively, pointing
at the field. “Do you see him?”
Guess he had his secrets, too. And damn if I didn’t want them all. “See
who?”
He chuckled warmly and suddenly his hand was cupping my jaw. He
turned my face gently in the right direction and pointed. Too bad the field
was pretty much a blur. That hand that could easily palm a football was
gentle as could be on my jaw. By the time I remembered to breathe and pull
away, he was looking at me funny again.
I focused on the dark-haired guy who seemed to be holding court in the
center of a bunch of kids. He was wearing a red tracksuit and had a soccer
ball tucked under his arm. He listened to Harper talking animatedly,
nodding along now and again. It took me a few seconds to recognize him.
“Why…why is Samson Baptiste outside my window?”
“He’s a friend of mine. Sort of. I met him at a party last year and we’ve
texted a few times since then.” He shrugged. “Who better to run soccer
drills with the kids?”
Someone better than an Olympic medalist on the US soccer team? I
could think of literally no one. That made about as much sense as anything
else that was happening right about now. “Sure,” I said faintly.
“Anyway, I thought this would make it up to Harper until I can go to his
next practice.”
I examined that solution from every fucking angle, but it was more than
fair, which was…rather annoying. So was how good he smelled. Or how
amazing his eyes were, especially when they crinkled with amusement at
my expense.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so speechless.”
“And you never will again.” I rubbed the back of my neck because there
was no time like the present to do hard things. “I owe you an apology.”
“For?”
“You know.”
“Do I?”
“You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?” I muttered.
Those honey-colored eyes crinkled again and I wondered when that
color became my favorite. “No, I don’t think I am, Fox. Make it good and
take your time.”
“I’m sorry. You just can’t imagine how many people show up for these
kids and get them all excited with promises and shit, and then disappear.” I
sighed and turned back to the window. It was easier to be truthful to a glass
pane than his face. “I don’t want this place to be like all the other places in
their life. I want them to know that they can trust us and that they’re safe.”
I missed feeling safe.
 All these years later, I still expected the people I’d come to care about to
disappear. The majority of my abandonment issues came from my mother
putting me out like yesterday’s garbage. I knew that. Knowing it and
changing it were two different things. The old me, Jamison Foxhill, might
be dead, but he’d left behind most of his baggage.
Left it behind? Hell, I strapped that shit on each morning and tucked it
in every night.
I didn’t want these kids to lean into that feeling. The one of not knowing
whom you can count on and where to turn. I wanted them to know that no
matter what else was going on in their lives, I was a lighthouse. When the
waves stopped crashing and the storm stopped raging, I’d still be there.
“Are you okay?”
When I glanced over at McAdams, he was already looking at me, his
eyes full of concern. I wanted to lean into that concern. Wrap it around me
like a fucking blanket.
I stepped into his space and despite my mood, I wanted to laugh at his
startled expression. He backed up and I followed until he was against the
wall. There. Perfect. But he was just too bloody tall and didn’t seem to be
interested in moving things along—instead, he just stared at me, wide-eyed.
I reached up, sinking my fingers into his hair and then gripping to pull his
face down to mine.
Temporary insanity, I marveled, I had no other explanation. Sometimes
in life, you had to reach out and grab something that made you happy. Even
if you knew it wasn’t good for you in the long run.
“What’re you—” was all he got out before my mouth landed on his.
His lips were ridiculously soft under mine…and uncertain. Clearly, he
hadn’t decided whether to respond, so I kept things light as I pressed soft
kisses to his mouth. Giving him plenty of room to make up his mind. I
wondered which way he was leaning as I traced the seam of his mouth with
my tongue.
I didn’t have to wonder long. He came alive like someone had flipped a
switch, taking control of the kiss. It was his turn to grip my hair, using it to
angle my head to his satisfaction. There was no more wondering if we were
doing this because fuck yeah, we were doing this. I groaned into his mouth.
Fuck, he was even better at kissing than me, and I came certified with very
good reviews. His enthusiasm had caught me off guard, so I was a little
short on the whole air front.
A short breath. Just one. That was all I needed before we went back to
our mutual mauling. Only when I tried to pull away, he made a little sound
of protest and slanted his mouth across mine again. I huffed out a laugh
even as I decided that yes, breathing was for losers. Surely he liked me
enough to give me the breath of life when I finally passed the fuck out on
my office floor.
In a few short seconds, he’d turned my light, breezy kiss into something
deeper. More elemental. It was both exactly just how I’d imagined and
nothing like I’d imagined, all at the same time.
And then he pulled away.
Just…pulled away.
Blearily, I took a shuffling step forward and he shook his head. That
single motion froze me in place. Fuck.
Maybe he wasn’t as into me as I thought. Maybe I’d taken things too
far. He’d asked me out a few times, but that was just playful fun. Banter.
Nothing to take seriously. Maybe in actuality, he didn’t want me at all—
“I’m sorry,” I blurted. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
His face was still flushed, his mouth positively ravaged as he gave me a
look of confusion. “What?”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you. I pushed you against the wall and—” I put
a hand over my mouth and that only served to remind me of what I’d done.
“Good Lord, you probably don’t even want me that way—”
“Want you?” He practically growled. “Of course I want you. I’ve
wanted you from the moment I saw you. You have no fucking idea what it’s
taking to keep from bending you over that desk, Fox.”
Sounded like an amazing idea to me. I blinked at him for a bit. “Then
why—”
“Because you’re sad about something and you needed comfort. That’s
the only reason you reached for me. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I frowned because there was more to it than that. But…yeah, maybe I
wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t lost in memories better left untouched.
When no answer was forthcoming, Andrew nodded. “Exactly. The next
time you kiss me, I want to be the only thing on your mind. I want you to be
sure.”
 I nodded slowly.
“I’m gonna go. Don’t work too hard.”
He kissed me on the cheek and left. I waited a few minutes before I sat
back in my chair. I stared at the wall, unseeingly. It was hard to watch him
leave, yeah. Harder still to ask him to stay.
13
 ANDREW

A week passed and Jesse still hadn’t mentioned anything about the kiss.
To be fair, I hadn’t either. Guess we were just going back to the status
quo. I still wasn’t sure if stopping things in his office was the smart move or
the stupidest thing I’d ever done.
I shaded my eyes from the sun with a hand as I surveyed the soccer
field. Soccer wasn’t my game, but I was willing to let the kids beat me like
a drum if it meant they’d have fun. We had a mix of every level—
elementary to high school—and Joshua had agreed to referee. It was rare
for him to join in on our high jinks. Usually, he was fixing something or
meeting with someone or tackling projects around the center. But today
he’d made an exception and the kids were excited.
I wasn’t sure how I felt about Joshua Knox. I admired everything he did
for the community, but something about him rubbed me wrong. Maybe
some of my discontent was petty jealousy. I didn’t like the way he and Jesse
interacted. As if to highlight that thought, he said something that made
Jesse nod and laugh. Jesse looked completely at ease in his company, in a
way he never was in mine. When I asked about their relationship, Jesse
gave me a look like I was batshit crazy and emphasized that Joshua was his
mentor.
I gave them another sidelong glance.
Jesse stood on the sidelines with his arms folded, a little smile on his
face as he watched the kids. He’d been tied up in a meeting for most of the
day, and he’d only been here for an hour…something I was grumpy as hell
about. Tuesday was supposed to be a sure thing. Five hours of designated
Jesse time. I mean, volunteer time. And wasn’t he supposed to be
supervising me?
I tried not to stare, but my gaze kept drifting that way. He was several
days past a shave and his jaw was covered in stubble. His dark hair was
tousled—almost like he’d styled it that way. He hadn’t. I knew that for a
fact. He had a habit of abusing his hair—pulling, tugging, and raking his
fingers through it. If there was ever a head of hair that deserved some
fucking TLC, it was Jesse’s. I’d already told him that he was lucky he was
blessed with natural good looks because he did absolutely jack shit to
maintain them. In response to my observation, he’d given me the bird.
I wasn’t sure which look I liked on him better—the casual jeans and t-
shirt look he did very well or his I’m about to snag a donor look, which
amounted to pressed slacks and a button-down. Today the slacks were slate
gray and the shirt was a dark green, which made his eyes look even greener.
He’d rolled up the sleeves because of the heat, which showed off some
pretty nice forearms.
He looked all but edible.
I caught a soccer ball to the solar plexus and grunted as it bounced off
my abdomen. I whipped around to find Harper giving me an innocent look.
“Sorry, my bad.”
I sent him a little grin. “Brat. Don’t damage the goods.”
“Wouldn’t want that.” Jesse’s voice came from behind me, and I
wondered how he’d moved so quickly. “But just in case, you’re insured,
yes?”
I narrowed my eyes. He was about to learn a valuable lesson. Sassy
little shits deserved to be doused with A1 sauce and thrown to the wolves. I
spoke to the kids without breaking eye contact. “Hey, guys? I was thinking
—”
“Did it hurt?” Eric called out.
“Shut it,” I said without looking his way. “I was thinking we should
convince Foxy here to join and even out the teams.”
Jesse’s eyes widened as the group voiced their approval. “I don’t think
—”
“Afraid of a little competition? I get it. I would be, too.” I gave him a
conciliatory pat on the back, my eyes full of pity. “Better to bow out now.”
 Amusement danced in his eyes. “Your attempts at reverse psychology
are about as sad as your soccer skills.”
“Big talk from a little man.”
“Little?” He sent me a look of retribution. I was pretty sure next
Tuesday I’d be donning gloves and scrubbing something horrible. “I’d love
to watch you eat those words. Unfortunately, I’m not dressed for it.”
“You keep a couple changes of clothes in your office,” I said sweetly as
he groaned under his breath. “I believe you keep them in the bottom drawer
of your desk.”
“Thank you ever so much.”
“Welcome,” I said cheerily. “And don’t you also keep a pair of sneakers
in there? Hell, the only thing that’s not in that drawer is talent.”
“I have no idea why people seem to gravitate toward you.” His lips
twitched with humor. “You’re an asshole.”
“Language,” one of the kids shouted.
“I think he’s stalling,” I said with a raised eyebrow. “What do you think,
people?”
That sent them into a chorus of Come on, Jesse punctuated by loud
talking. They sounded like a group of yappy little dogs listening to a
doorbell on repeat, and I gave myself an A+ in the art of crowd frenzy. I’d
whipped them up better than a Nutribullet.
Jesse didn’t look as annoyed as I expected him to. I don’t know why I
was surprised—I was learning that he could be a good sport. Still, you
could’ve knocked me over with a feather when he agreed with a little nod
and a small smile. The kids went wild with approval. Feral almost, I
amended as I caught one right before he bounced into another kid. I briefly
wondered how much sugar they’d had and if someone had maybe laced that
sugar with blow.
“Alright, alright,” Jesse finally said over the din. “Let’s not lose our
collective minds. I’m going to my office to change.”
That…was a picture I could do without. I focused before I caught
another soccer ball to the gut and busied the kids with getting organized and
picking teams. Jesse was back before we’d even finished putting on the blue
and red vests. He was in baggy gray shorts, a white tank, and some beat-up
sneakers—nothing that should’ve made my dick jump in my pants.
 I realized I was staring and swallowed hard. Then I forced myself to
look away. I wasn’t even sure what I was looking at—just anywhere,
anything else other than Jesse. My gaze flitted his way again. Did he look…
worried? It was hard to look away when he sank his teeth into that plush
lower lip. I mean, that wasn’t fair. I hadn’t gotten to bite it yet, so why
should he get to do it?
“What?” I asked.
He glanced around furtively to make sure no one was paying us any
attention and I was even more intrigued. “Should you be doing this?”
Okay, that was so not what I thought he was going to say. I frowned.
“Yeah, sure. Why not?”
“Your knee.” He looked at it anxiously as if he could take an x-ray with
his eyes alone. “Maybe you should just be coaching, not playing. The
ground back here isn’t even level, you know. I mean, just last week….”
And he was off. Because if there was anything Jesse did well, it was
worry about every single outcome. To be fair, that was kind of his job.
Usually, that worry was Rainbow Harbor-centric, though. There wasn’t
much that could’ve prepared me for the warm feeling of Jesse Fox being
concerned about me.
“Worried about me, Fox?” I asked gruffly.
“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “I just don’t want hordes of Outlaw
fans to blame this center for your slow-ass recovery. Someone might pull
his or her donation.”
I grinned and didn’t call him on his bullshit. “PT says light activity is
okay. And I can’t get back on the field if I’m afraid to play with kids.”
“Some of these kids are like six feet tall.” He shook his head a little
despairingly. “You think they’re feeding them something…I don’t know,
unusual? Radioactive, maybe?”
I guffawed. “Height is relative, small fry. Now stop stalling and let’s get
moving.”
“I think I hate you.” He raked a hand through his hair, and it looked
even messier than usual. “What team am I on?”
I promptly held out a blue vest. “Whatever team I’m not.”
He smirked as he took it and slipped it over his head. “Works for me.”
I narrowed my eyes because it took very little to activate my challenge
mode. He was going to eat dirt and then he was going to hand my team our
win. “Let’s do this, Foxy.”
Within a few minutes of play, I was aware we had a ringer in our midst,
and his name was Fox. I was fast, keeping up with him with ease.
Unfortunately, there was no tackling him…which was too bad. He was far
too nimble for me to get the ball away. From the smirk he sent me, he could
sense my growing frustration. When we got within kicking distance of the
net, I could already see the writing on the wall. Sure enough, he drew back
his foot and sent the poor ball flying into the net so hard, I almost expected
smoke trails.
I glared at our goalie, who gave me a shrug as he tossed me the ball. My
poor team straggled behind, winded. “You’ve played before,” I accused.
“Maybe a bit.” The little thief stole the ball and maneuvered around me
again, calling, “Too slow.”
Okay, that was it. I was a team player, but dammit, I liked to win. And
no one here was giving out sportsmanship awards. I came up behind him
and lifted him clear off his feet.
He gave a surprised oof as his middle hit my shoulder, but he was only
quiet for a second. He hollered that I was a damn dirty cheater as the kids
laughed. Then I had to run around with him on my shoulder for a bit while
he spluttered through laughter for me to put him down…as you do. Most
fun I’d had in ages.
When I finally set him on his feet, I was relieved to hear his laughter. I
knew I could be a little exuberant sometimes. I spent my days roughhousing
with a bunch of guys that could double as big kids. Our barometer for
acceptable adult behavior was…a tad skewed. So I tried to rein in the frisky
puppy shit.
Jesse’s laughter faded the longer I stared. A blush colored his cheeks. I
wasn’t sure which of us was more surprised when I blurted, “I want you.” I
reviewed those words and realized they were a hundred percent, actual
factual truth and not just a knee-jerk reaction. I checked around to make
sure we were still alone before I got closer. “I want you and I know you
want me, too.”
He stared at me for a few moments, his gaze dropping to my mouth.
Was he breathing a little harder? He swallowed hard and then sent me a
little grin. “Want is just a word.”
 No, it was a feeling. So was need. And I was kind of tired of getting
twisted up in knots by both. When I spoke again, my voice was barely
better than a growl. “Go out with me.”
He played his part of our script to the letter like nothing had changed.
“Nope.” And then he was skirting around me with a very un-Jesse-like
whoop, the ball between those agile feet. “But it’s so good to have dreams.”
I chuckled ruefully. “You’ll change your mind.”
He sent the ball into the net again and stuck his tongue out at me. He
didn’t look worried at all. He should be. I almost felt sorry for the poor
bastard. It wasn’t in my nature to give up on something I wanted, and it was
becoming painfully clear that I wanted Jesse Fox.
Game on.
14
 JESSE

T he last week of October, my luck ran out with my poor Plymouth.

It was drizzling rain when I left the center, close to six in the
afternoon. I had big plans to go grocery shopping and fall asleep on my
couch, and I was pathetic enough to be excited about it. I jogged to my car
in the drizzle, too impatient to bother with an umbrella.
That’s when Nina decided she’d had enough of living in general. I sat
there in the driver’s seat, just giving luck a minute to drop a GPS pin on me.
I reminded Nina of the good times, like when I’d treated her to a container
of Turtle Wax and upgraded her with performance windshield wipers. Then
I tried to crank her again, and she coughed and died.
Clearly, my memories of our life together were rosier than hers.
“Nothing but discount wipers for you from now on,” I vowed.
I let my head fall against the headrest. The rain drummed against the
hood gently in a way that would’ve been peaceful if my car hadn’t pulled a
dead raccoon on me, with Xs on her headlights and a tongue lolling out of
the engine bay.
I mentally adjusted my afternoon activities as I watched the rain
forming strange patterns on my windshield. I needed to call for a tow and a
ride. I had to call my favorite repair place and let them know I’d be leaving
the car in their parking lot. Red wouldn’t be surprised. He and my car were
on a first-name basis. I should also probably—
A knock at the window startled me, and I glanced over to find Andrew
standing there, cupping his hand against the glass as he tried to see inside
my car. The windows were tinted slightly past legal, and I wasn’t removing
them until I had to. I already had my open-mouthed look of shock ready for
whatever cop informed me that they weren’t street legal. Gasp. Officer, are
you sure?
I opened my door a crack and peered up at Andrew. The rain pelted his
shoulders as he leaned in, those broad shoulders blocking me from getting
wet…and seeing the damn sky. Good Lord, it’s okay to take a day off from
the freaking gym.
“You okay?”
“Of course,” I said promptly.
“You’ve been sitting here a while.”
“I do that sometimes,” I said sanguinely. “Thinking in my car is one of
my favorite activities.”
“Interesting.” His easy-breezy tone matched mine. “I’m not sure I’ve
ever seen you do that before.”
Guess he wasn’t buying anything I was selling. Too bad, I was about to
offer it to him again. “You don’t know everything I do.”
“True. But I know when you’re wading in bullshit up to your ankles.”
He swiped damp hair back from his forehead and straightened. Without my
wall of Andrew, light rain speckled my face. “Let me guess. This hunk of
junk finally put itself out of its misery.”
“She still has a lot of life left in her. She just needs a little tender loving
care.”
“It needs a wrecking ball.”
I scowled because he was right. Yeah, the car wasn’t exactly in the best
shape. If she could be powered by feelings alone, we’d be cruising down
Route 66. Unfortunately, she was powered by little things like an engine
with over two hundred thousand miles on it and a transmission that slipped
more than a big-shoed clown walking down Banana Peel Avenue.
Andrew tapped my roof. “Get your stuff.”
“I can handle it,” I said, feeling a little irritated. I’d made a life of being
capable and I didn’t need anyone riding to the rescue. I was the problem
solver. Just ask any of the people who depended on me daily. “I was just
gearing myself up to call for a tow and then Uber.”
“You can call while I’m driving you home.”
“I don’t want you to go through any trouble.”
 He smiled crookedly. “If it was any trouble, I wouldn’t have offered.”
“But—”
“Driving you home isn’t any trouble, but standing here and getting
soaked is fucking annoying.”
I may be a problem solver, but I wasn’t a stupid man. Turning down a
free ride when I was going to have to pay only Satan-knows-what for a
repair would indeed be stupid. “Thank you,” was all I said. Begrudgingly.
He looked way too amused. “That looked like it hurt.”
“Like a fork in the eye,” I agreed, and he laughed.
He helped me store my things in his cargo area and we set off. We
didn’t talk much as he drove. I gave him the general direction so I could
focus on calling a tow yard and Red’s garage. Then there was silence, only
interspersed by my directions as we got closer to my neighborhood. By the
time we got there, the rain was coming down in sheets.
He turned on my street, and I could barely see my bungalow through the
deluge. It was small and beige with a terra cotta roof and a nice yard. I
looked at it with a critical eye as we approached. I didn’t have much extra
time to futz about with home repair, and it showed. It could use a fresh coat
of paint and maybe the grass needed a cut. But it wasn’t bad.
Not bad? I stiffened my spine. One second of Andrew McAdams in my
driveway, and I was calling my prized possession not bad. It was mine.
That was all that mattered.
I had my seatbelt unbuckled before he could even put the car in park.
“I’d invite you in, but I don’t want you to get wet,” I said when he reached
for his seatbelt.
He paused, raising an eyebrow. “I’ve heard of some crazy invention
people use to dry themselves off when they get wet. I think they call it a
towel.”
Despite myself, my mouth quirked. “Amusing.”
“I thought so, yes.” He glanced out at the rain with a frown. “You
should wait it out a few minutes.”
Yes, that would probably be the smart thing to do. Or I could run
through the torrential rain like a crazy person to get away from temptation. I
eased my fingers over the silver door handle. Yes. Crazy run was the thing
to do.
 “Especially since you have all those library books in my trunk,” he
added with a glint in his eye. “Wouldn’t want those to get ruined.”
I sat back in my seat.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see him tapping his fingers on his
bouncing thigh. I’d been around him long enough to know that it wasn’t a
nervous habit—he was just used to moving and using a lot of energy. When
he didn’t get in his full, grueling workout, that energy seeped out in weird
ways…or at least that’s how he’d explained doing push-ups with one of the
kids sitting cross-legged on his back.
“I like your place,” he said, breaking the silence. “I mean, I haven’t seen
the inside obviously, but it seems nice.”
“Yeah, I’m sure bungalows are all the rage with NFL players.”
“I’m a simple guy, Jesse. Same as I was before the money.”
“You’re right. It’s almost stunning how down-to-earth you are.” I sent
him a sweet look. “By the by, how’s the Lambo?”
He laughed. “Touché. And for your information, Molly thought it would
be a good idea to drive something else.”
“That’s good,” I said with a sage nod. “I’d hate to close out your
community service file by reporting you got knifed in the parking lot.”
That earned me another laugh that absolutely did not make me warm
inside. “Just because I enjoy the finer things in life doesn’t mean I don’t
enjoy the simple ones, too, Jesse.”
I hated it when he said my name like that, all deep and sexy-like.
I glanced up at the rain, which didn’t seem interested in abating even a
little bit. “So. What kind of simple things does Andrew McAdams like?”
He shrugged. “Nothing all that ground-breaking. Swimming, hiking,
biking, running—”
“For fuck’s sake,” I said, staring at him. “Anything that doesn’t involve
raising my heart rate past the danger zone?”
“I do play video games occasionally.” He grinned. “And because I’m
not a weirdo, I also watch TV.”
“What kind of shows?”
He rattled off a few shows. I let my expression tell him what I thought
of his strange taste, and he rolled his eyes. “Let me guess. You’re all about
educational programming.”
 “Wrong. I like sitcoms. And I can’t help but notice you didn’t mention
football on your little list.”
“You asked for things that I like. Not things I love.”
“Aw,” I complained. “You’re not going to be one of those stereotypical
athletes who complain about getting paid millions to play the sport they
love? I was looking forward to hoisting you on your own petard.”
“Nope. Sorry.” He chuckled. “Although I will say things haven’t exactly
been a bed of roses lately.”
I could guess what that was about. Pressure. He needed to get back on
the field. I had a feeling it wasn’t entirely up to him, or he’d already be out
there, knee be damned. Then there was the DUI mess. Now that I knew him
better as a person, it didn’t seem like something he would do at all. He had
his spoiled ways, yeah, but he was conscientious and cared about people. I
couldn’t see him risking someone’s life because he just had to drive himself
home.
“You never did tell me how you wound up with a DUI,” I blurted.
He cocked an eyebrow at me and I knew he wasn’t going to make this
easy. “I thought you didn’t need my life story.”
I flushed at hearing my own callous words thrown in my face. “Maybe I
was a little…insensitive saying that.”
“A little?”
“Okay, a lot. But I was just coming off of a shitty meeting with a donor
who couldn’t give money to a cause that’s so very gay, and your
management team expected me to fawn over you and—”
“I never expected that.”
“You’re right.” I blew out a breath. “And I am sorry. So if you want to
talk, I’m all ears.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Then that bastard actually thought about it. For a while. I occupied
myself by stewing and glaring at him every few seconds. I had no idea why
hearing the reason was so important to me now, but fuck it, it was. And was
he watching the rain?
I popped him in the arm.
“Ow,” he yelped with enough drama to wrangle an Oscar nomination.
I rolled my eyes because surely I’d hurt my poor hand more than the
rocks he stored in that bicep. “It’s okay to skip arm day at the gym
sometimes, you know.”
“Hulkamania is running wild, brother.” He flexed a couple of times
comically, and I may or may not have snorted with laughter. “I know, I
know, my Hulk Hogan impression is amazing. I also do a good madman
Randy Savage.”
“As tempting as that is, I’d rather you tell me the story of how you
ended up with a DUI.”
“I’m still not sure you’re sorry enough for being a judgmental prick,” he
said lazily.
“Well, how else can I say it?”
“Maybe you should say it with a kiss.”
I pretended to mull that over, even as my traitorous lips thought that was
a brilliant idea. “Maybe I should just pop you again.”
He shrugged. “It’s not that exciting of a story. I just had a little too much
to drink at a bar and got in my car to sleep it off.”
“That’s it?” I frowned because…well, I didn’t know why. Maybe
because that’s not what I’d been expecting. I didn’t know what I’d been
expecting, but not…that. “Well, why didn’t you catch a ride with
someone?”
“I wasn’t thinking.”
“I’m sure the booze had a lot to do with that.”
“Probably. I also didn’t want to see anyone or explain why I was drunk
off my ass. The anniversary of the death of someone you loved is hard.” His
mouth tightened briefly, imperceptibly. “I guess I’m just starting to realize
that it’s always going to be hard. There’s no magic milestone you hit when
everything is just okay.”
I didn’t have to wonder who he was talking about. He did memorial
Father’s Day posts every year. The last one was just a black-and-white
picture of the day he got drafted. McAdams was in an ill-fitting suit with an
Outlaw’s cap on his head and a shy grin on his face, his arm across the
shoulders of a slightly smaller, stouter man with a beard and graying hair. I
knew it was his father—the pride in his eyes spoke volumes.
Everything I am, is because of you. My eyes and nose stung as I read
that caption. I wasn’t sure if my sadness had been more altruistic or selfish.
Was it harder having lost that kind of love from your father or never
experiencing it at all?
 My mouth decided to get ahead of my brain a tad. “What happened to
your father?” At his surprised look, I flushed, because surely some other nut
had blurted out a question that was absolutely, positively not his business.
“He was in a motorcycle accident. The day started bright and clear, but
by the time he left his buddy’s house, the weather changed and the road was
slipperier than he thought. He skidded in a turn and slammed into a
guardrail. Died on impact.” He shook his head. “His buddy offered to give
him a ride, but I guess he thought he could handle it. He never was any
good at accepting help.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, and never had words felt so inadequate.
“We were supposed to go fishing that day but I was too busy. The sad
part was I don’t even remember what I was so busy doing. That day is
just…a blur.”
His tone left little room for interpretation. “You can’t blame yourself.
I’m sure there were plenty of days when you did do stuff together. Just
because you canceled the one day—”
“The only day, Jesse. In the end, that was the only day that mattered. It
doesn’t help things that I’m the one who bought him the motorcycle. The
day I gave it to him, he was so excited. He’d always wanted a Harley, you
know?” He let out a breath. “I keep that picture up on my Instagram
because it was such a happy moment for him. But now when I see it, I can’t
help but think I just put a big red bow on my father’s instrument of death
and said, ta-da. Happy fucking birthday.”
I spluttered because while I could see the reasoning there, it was faulty
and destructive. “You can’t extend responsibility to yourself for just buying
a motorcycle. That’s like blaming the water company if you drown in the
shower.”
He stared at me for a few moments, his expression unreadable. Then a
small smile tugged at his lips, probably at my indignance. I scowled
because he’d better not be picturing me as a testy Lhasa Apso again. Last
week, he’d shared the analogy of my personality with me, and I’d nearly
thrown my pen at his head. By nearly, I mean I did throw it and he ducked
just in time. I appreciated the sentiment of being fierce and loyal, if not the
comparison to a little dog with long hair and bug eyes.
“It’s not your fault,” I said firmly, because he needed to know it and
believe it.
 “Yeah, well. Tell that to my mother.”
“She said that?”
“Yes.”
“The words, McAdams. I’m not talking about any feelings of guilt you
stacked on your back to carry for all time. Did she say the words?”
“She said the words, Fox,” he said looking carefully blank. “Screamed
them in my face after the funeral.”
I struggled not to besmirch his mother...but it was difficult. I know she’d
been going through a hard time, probably the hardest of her life. But you
should never say some things to your kids. The words of a parent, good or
bad, were unmatched in gravity. Sometimes you could lift them off your
chest and shake them off. Sometimes you were crushed under the weight.
No son of mine will ever be gay, Jamison. You make a choice, right now.
But if you choose this…this perversion, you can walk right out that door.
And don’t you ever come back.
Andrew was lost in memories of his own. “I don’t think anyone thought
about things that way…at least not at first. But as the reality of life without
him started to set in, I think it got tougher not to assign blame.”
“It was an accident,” I stressed, still battling down my temper. I knew
that people said things they didn’t mean when grief was at the helm, but
shit. “He could’ve just as easily wrecked a car. Or went down in a plane
crash.”
“That’s not exactly the same thing.”
“Listen. Two flights can leave the same airport with completely
different results. You take the one from gate B and you land safely. You
take the one from gate H and you wind up plunging from the sky to your
death, clutching a piece of burning fuselage like a teddy bear. I don’t know
if you’ve noticed, but this life is kind of a crap shoot.”
He blinked at me for a few moments before he shook his head, looking
vaguely amused. “You have a strange way of cheering people up, Fox.”
“I do what I can.”
“You’re not that great at it,” he insisted, and I huffed out a laugh.
“Anyway, we’re okay now, but we had a rocky few years. I think we’ve all
just agreed not to talk about it.”
“Because that’s healthy?”
 “Because it’s necessary.” He scrubbed his hands down his face, and it
looked like just telling the story aged him ten years. “God, why are we
talking about this again?”
I winced guiltily. We were talking about it because someone in the car
was a nosy nelly who had to indulge his rampant curiosity. “I shouldn’t
have pried,” I said lowly. “I know you don’t just tell your business to
anyone—”
“You’re not just anyone, Jesse.”
I held that intense, honeyed gaze as long as I could before I had to look
away. “Oh.”
That was good because he damn sure wasn’t just anyone to me, either.
No matter how I’d tried.
“So. Who’re the flowers from?”
“Huh?” I wasn’t prepared for his question, mostly because I was still
lost in the headspace where I was special and he could be mine. In other
words, I didn’t need tickets and a long drive to Disney to visit Fantasyland.
“What flowers?”
He nodded at my doorstep, and I spotted the vase of pink tulips. I
sighed. Trace was determined to give me chronic heartburn. It didn’t seem
to matter to him that I wasn’t interested. Or that he was married.
It’s not what it looks like, he’d said shiftily when I made the mistake of
answering one of his calls.
Looks like you’re organizing your closet with your beard and looking
for someone to help fold socks. I didn’t say that, of course. As a rule of
thumb, I tried not to antagonize people who could break me in half without
working up a sweat. Instead, I just blocked his number. He called me from a
different phone a week later.
I knew exactly what was getting under his skin this time. Molly had
posted some pictures of the soccer game on our company page. There were
several of me and Andrew, and for whatever reason, there was animosity
between the two. I’d seen them jawing off at each other at a charity dinner
once, and it didn’t look friendly. I chalked it up to football rivalry shit but
now I wondered if it was more than that.
Honestly, I wished Molly would take the picture down, and not just
because it was making Trace froth at the mouth. We weren’t doing anything
inappropriate in the photo—just standing next to each other. I had a soccer
ball tucked under my arm, and we were both sweaty and laughing with
some of the kids. None of that was problematic.
It was the expression on my face that took me aback. I looked…happy.
And seeing yourself happy only made you aware of all the times that you
weren’t. My happiness couldn’t be tied up in someone like Andrew. Period.
Every man in the world was not Trace King. I knew that. One day, I
would put the effort into finding a real relationship. But it certainly
wouldn’t be with another NFL player, especially one whose life the media
considered fair game.
I was a private person, almost hermit-like in my dedication to keeping
people out of my business. Anyone who wound up with Andrew would be
ready for the scrutiny. Ready to have his past picked over like carrion. I
wasn’t that guy.
Realizing he was still waiting for an answer, I went with a vague,
“They’re not from anyone important.”
“That’s it? I give you all of that personal shit and you give me no one
important?”
“He’s not.”
“So it is a he,” he crowed.
“And I think that’s my cue,” I said, glancing out the window at the rain,
which had slowed to a drizzle. “Thanks for the lift.”
“What time do you go in tomorrow?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to need a ride,” he said reasonably, “and I’m a
willing volunteer.”
“You don’t come to the center on Wednesdays,” I pointed out.
“Your point would be?”
That he was nicer than I thought, more likable than I thought, and a
really big fucking problem. You should tell him that you can arrange your
own ride. My inner wise man put down an armful of myrrh and took a
moment to advise me. Spending any more time with this guy is not a smart
thing to do.
“Nine o’clock,” I said instead because I was a weak, weak man, and the
thought of seeing him again before next week was too alluring. I got out of
the car before I could be tempted to invite him to come in. “Pop the trunk?”
 After he did, I gathered my stuff, ignoring the fact that he’d opened his
door and got out…like he was going to help me ferry the stuff to my porch.
“Let me help—” was all he got out before I had everything in my arms.
He chuckled under his breath even as he gave the boxes a pointed look.
“Do you give them to me or do I wrestle them away?”
I looked at those guns he called arms again and then at my own noodles.
I mean, I had definition and all, but that wasn’t a war I could even wage,
much less win.
I handed over a box. He waited patiently, Job incarnate, until I gave him
one more. With a put-upon sigh, I led the way up the walk. “Thank you,” I
said begrudgingly.
“Mmhmm. Quick question. Do you say thank you in any other tone?”
He sounded amused.
“Yes,” I said…also begrudgingly.
To his credit, he didn’t try to come in. He put the boxes on the porch
and bumped my shoulder. “Tomorrow.”
After giving the flowers one last curious look, he sent me a little half-
smile and then headed back the way we’d come. I jammed my key in the
lock and opened the door. He waited, idling until I’d carried in the boxes,
and then drove off with a quick honk.
I texted him one-handed as I flipped on the lights. I forgot we’re getting
a delivery I have to sign for. I need to be there by eight.
I closed the door, biting my lip, wondering why I’d had so very much
fun just sitting in the car and talking. Why did he have to go and have depth
and layers? Why did he have to be sweet with the kids and do extra hours,
unprompted, at the center?
The universe owed me one shallow, selfish ballplayer and I intended to
collect. In the meantime, I was stuck with this guy who didn’t seem to
understand he was supposed to be a stereotype. Not the exception.
My phone dinged with a text and I snorted at his “not a problem”
response.
Oh, I beg to differ.
15
 JESSE

I would admit that when Red hit a snag on fixing my car, I wasn’t put out
in the least. The words take your time actually came out of my mouth. I
wasn’t even pretending to look for solutions anymore. I was just accepting
ill-advised rides from Andrew. Daily. Because I was a masochist. Those
rides back and forth to work had become the highlight of my day, which
was all kinds of pathetic. Getting attached was a stupid thing to do. I knew
that. And yet….
He was waiting by the curb when I came out of the center, a box tucked
under my arm, my messenger bag strapped across my body, and my lunch
bag dangling from my fingertips. He shook his head, his mouth already
curving up in a smile and I knew exactly why. It was a discussion we’d had
many times over the past week. The last time, I’d been tottering out of the
building with a stack of three boxes in my arms, judging the height of the
curb and where to step off by mostly memory.
“Two trips won’t kill you, Jesse,” he’d lectured, shaking his head. “But
what you’re doing just might.”
“Don’t be such a worrywart,” I said breezily, two seconds before I
caught my toe on a manhole cover. I nearly took a header before he caught
me. My boxes went flying, and I reflected on how lucky I was that they
were only full of promotional materials. Oh, and that I hadn’t cracked my
skull on the pavement.
Even as he helped me gather Rainbow Harbor swag from all over the
parking lot—in the most I told you so manner possible—I refused to
concede. I did not, would not, could not ascribe to this two-trip theory
nonsense. Maybe one day I’d lose a finger due to loss of circulation because
I grabbed just one. More. Bag. So be it.
I stowed my things in the backseat and hopped in the front…quickly. It
wasn’t because I didn’t want his help—I’d gotten used to that over the past
week. I just didn’t want him looking at what was in the box.
“Thanks for the ride,” I said, making myself comfortable. “Red should
have my car ready next week.”
He watched me getting comfortable with a little amused smile. “How
many times are you going to make me say that it’s not a problem?”
“Probably a few more,” I admitted.
My ass gave the butter-soft leather of my seat a happy greeting as I got
settled. You belong on vinyl, butt, I reminded it. We love vinyl. As soon as
our dependable ride got out of the shop, that’s what we were going back to.
Until then, it was plush leather goodness. And a phone charger. I set my
phone on the little circle to get some juice. Then I put my drink in the
cupholder and buckled my seatbelt.
When I reached for the A/C, Andrew barked out a laugh. “Sorry to
interrupt you over there at mission control, but what’s in the box?”
I waited until he’d pulled away from the curb to answer. I didn’t want to
get punted to the bus stop like a football. Hut, hut, hike!
“Rabbits.” At his alarmed look, I pulled a drink out of my attaché before
I stowed it under my feet. “I brought you a Sprite.”
“I don’t want a Sprite, I want to know why there are rabbits in my car,”
he demanded.
Bold words from someone who plucked the soda from my hands and
cracked it open immediately. I tried not to be too smug. We both knew he
was going to drink the whole thing before we even reached the highway.
“What’s your beef with rabbits?”
“I don’t have any beef with them, thank you very much. I just would
rather not transport rodents in my freshly detailed car.”
“You’re too precious about this thing,” I said with a wave of my hand.
“Besides, they’re not rodents. And they’re cute.”
“Who’s to say one rodent is cute and one is killable?”
“What?”
 “I’m glad you asked,” he said, looking like he was ready to settle in for
a long discussion about nonsense.
“I didn’t—”
“If there’s a rodent in their cupboards, people put down horrible traps.
But if that rodent just so happens to be bigger and furrier with long ears and
a twitchy nose, people call his feet lucky and treat him like royalty.”
“You put your royalty in a corrugated box?” I raised an eyebrow. “Also,
there’s a rabbit in a stew somewhere that sees a problem with your logic.”
“You know what I mean.” He glanced in the rearview at the box, as if a
buck-toothed attack was imminent. “Which brings us back to the box.
What’s the story on the rabbits, Fox?”
“One of the kids brought them in. I promised to help her find good
homes for them. I talked to the parents of two kids and they said it was
alright, which leaves us with two.”
“Maybe she could post an ad,” he suggested.
“She did, but we had to reword it a bit. She was giving them away for
free, and I told her that wasn’t a good idea. People will get them to use them
as bait or feed them to their snakes and shit. Or even just torture them to
death just because.”
He looked positively disgusted. “That’s sick.”
“People can be sick.” I shrugged. “This is news?”
In the meantime, that meant I had two rabbits that I didn’t particularly
want or have time for. My conscience demanded that I find them a good
home, but that was already proving to be a challenge.
I glanced at Andrew as an idea formed, crystallized, and turned into a
plan. “Hey, maybe you—”
“No.”
“You don’t even know what I was going to ask you.”
“You had that look in your eye, Fox. After two months, I’m very
familiar with that look. It’s the I’m about to do a nice thing and you’re
going to help whether you like it or not look.”
“I do not have a look.”
“Oh, but you do. That look has gotten me to do many horrible things.”
If I’d been standing up, I would’ve plunked a hand on my hip. “Such
as?” I demanded.
 “Trying my hand at sink repair, for starters. Or making me use the nail
gun to fix the upholstery on the rec room sofa.” He looked a little frazzled
just at the memory. “If the cord hadn’t been too loose and fallen out of the
wall, I would’ve sent a nail straight through my hand.”
“I told you that the nails came out of the rounded end.”
“And I told you that I’m not great at home repair. I’m also not in the
market for any tiny livestock.”
“But—”
“No infinity,” he stressed. “I’m on the road a lot and I don’t have time
for any animals.”
I huffed. It wasn’t the first time someone had tried a no infinity on me.
I’d worn them down and I’d wear him down, too. As he pulled into the
driveway, I unbuckled my seatbelt. Another telltale click echoed mine, and I
glanced over just in time to see Andrew’s seatbelt retract.
I stared. “And just what do you think you’re doing?”
“What does it look like?”
“It looks like we’re at the ‘thank you for the ride’ part of the evening.”
“I’ve been Uber-ing your ass around for a week, Jesse,” he said as he
pressed the engine On/Off button. “Invite me in.”
“What are you, a vampire?”
“I’m awfully parched,” he said pitifully. “Maybe I could get a glass of
water for the drive?”
Despite myself, my lips twitched. “Don’t you always carry one of those
Yeti coolers with you?”
“It’s empty,” he said, lying his ass off. I didn’t even need to shake the
container to check. Maybe it was the athlete in him, but he was to hydration
like bees were to pollen.
I guess I was being rude. And he had done me a favor, several times
over at this point. As if he could sense my near capitulation, he bumped my
shoulder with his. “Loosen up, J. It’s not that big of a deal.”
It was a very big deal. I should tell him to start up his Tahoe and hit the
bricks. I only allowed people in my home that I trusted, and I didn’t trust
many people. I wasn’t sure why I was making an exception now. Maybe I
trusted him a little more than I thought, which was…surprising.
I didn’t care to examine that unsettling train of thought any further.
“Dearest Andrew,” I said with a dramatic sigh. “Won’t you please come
in?”
“I’d be delighted,” he said, matching my starchy tone. “I know your last
name is Fox, but it’s good to know you weren’t raised by wolves.”
Before I could respond, he got out of the car, closing the door on my
outraged face. For that, I made him carry the box. And right before my very
eyes, a furball love affair began.
He couldn’t seem to look away from the rabbits. I wasn’t even sure he
was aware he was smiling at them like they’d done something great instead
of just continuing to exist in their furry glory. They were both girls, one
fluffy and gray, the other bigger and smoother and all black. I’d cuddled
them both at my desk while I was on a call. Turns out holding rabbits makes
the day seem a little better…at least until they started dropping poop pellets
on my lap. That got them a return trip to Boxville in a hurry.
When he brushed a finger softly over the black one’s nose and she
bumped his finger with her head, it was over. He looked at me, resigned,
and I smiled brightly. “She comes with feed and a half-eaten salt lick, but
you’ll have to buy your own hutch and hay.”
“Shut up, Jesse.”
“I’ll send you a link on Amazon,” I called after him as he stalked up the
path.

I wasn’t sure if I liked having him in my space. He didn’t bother to hide his
curiosity as he carefully took in his surroundings. I doubted that a columnist
for Architectural Digest would do a more thorough job. I busied myself
with settling the rabbits as he wandered, changing their newspaper and
setting up a water dispenser. I added food and the salt lick, then stepped
back to survey Rabbit Land. I tsked to myself. I didn’t even have fresh hay,
but it would do until tomorrow.
I looked up just in time to see Andrew disappear into the kitchen.
“Perhaps you need your forensics kit from the car?” I asked. “What are you
expecting to find?”
“I dunno. That’s the point.” His voice floated through the pass-through
window as I toed off my sneakers and tucked them against the wall.
“You’re closed off and cagey as a cat. You act like sharing something about
yourself would actually kill you.”
“Why did I let you in again?”
“No idea, but it’s too late to change your mind.”
He sounded way too cheerful about that as he left the kitchen and made
a beeline for my bookcase. I’d made the window area into a bit of a reading
nook, and my throw was still crumpled on the chair. It was a favorite space
of mine, and I used it often.
When he picked up my current read and examined the cover, I made it
ten seconds before I took it out of his hands—snatched it, really. I wasn’t
even reading anything salacious. It was a political thriller for God’s sake.
He blinked at me in surprise as I flushed and pondered the life choices
that had made me this way. I set the book back down and said lamely, “I’m
just a private person.”
“Or in the witness protection program. I’m guessing.”
Amusement battled with my discomfort, and my mouth twitched. “Well,
we don’t all need to be an open book with a million followers tracking our
daily smoothie.”
“I knew you looked me up,” he crowed, and this time I couldn’t hold
back a laugh. “You like anything you saw?”
“No,” I said truthfully because I certainly didn’t like feeling off balance,
hot and bothered.
His eyes danced because he knew that was complete bullshit. “You
wound me, Jesse. You really do.” Finally done with his thorough inspection,
he dropped down on my couch...like he was planning to stay awhile. “You
have a nice place.”
“Glad you approve.”
I stared.
He stared right back.
I narrowed my eyes. “I still have the number to Got ’Em Critter
Fumigation, you know. Denny said I could call anytime if I have any
unwanted pests.”
“I’m sure he did.”
His tone was unmistakable and I frowned. I could be oblivious when
people were interested in me, but Denny? “Nah,” I said slowly. “You
think?”
 “Why?” If his eyebrow got any higher, he’d have to sew it back on.
“You’re interested in Denny?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but no.” Apparently, I was now
interested in completely inappropriate men who wouldn’t exit my home
voluntarily. I glanced pointedly at my watch. “It’s getting late. I should
probably get started on dinner.”
A smile played on that wide mouth. “I could eat.”
“Note the complete absence of surprise from this side of the room.”
He didn’t look hurt in the least as he patted his stomach. I wish I didn’t
know there were washboard abs under there. “I’m conditioning.”
“So you’ve said,” I said doubtfully. “To do what is the question.”
I bit back a smile at his responding middle finger.
After I surveyed my fridge contents and declared there wasn’t anything
appetizing in there, he checked it himself. Then we checked it together. We
started going through options and discarding them just as quickly until my
stomach let out a growl. Talking about food—even food I didn’t deem
worthy enough for dinner—was making me hungry. And grouchy. I was
done playing Guess What I Want For Dinner? No, Not That.
Andrew lobbied for the steak one more time before he took in my
resting hangry face. He closed the refrigerator door in a hurry. “Pizza,” he
declared and reached in the crisper. “And maybe you should eat this pear.
You look a little…stabby.”
“That’s not a word.”
“To someone in danger of being stabbed, it is very much a word.”
I’d like to say he was overreacting but…well, it was best for everyone
that I just eat the damn pear.

After stuffing ourselves with pizza, we wound up sitting on the couch,

watching a couple of mindless shows that he swore were must-see TV.
After ten minutes, I couldn’t testify to that, but I certainly enjoyed hearing
his laugh. It was deep and full-bodied like he wasn’t holding back. That
laugh said I don’t care if you find it funny because I do, so fuck it and you.
 My biggest problem was the seating. My couch was the type that liked
to hold people like a hug. It wasn’t designed that way, but it was old and the
cushions no longer had the will to maintain structure. That made it damn
near impossible to keep an appropriate distance. Every shift brought us a
little closer together.
Andrew didn’t seem to mind. He finally got tired of my efforts to plaster
myself to the armrest and put his arm around me. I scowled at the TV as he
played with the ends of my hair. I felt cozy. Safe. And so hot and bothered I
was about to come out of my skin.
I glared. I blamed all of this close-proximity shit. A little Andrew-free
time wouldn’t go amiss. Then I could go back to being boring, dependable
Jesse, not the Jesse who wanted to throw him down on this couch.
He leaned forward to reach for the remote and I could feel the muscles
in his arm bunching and then relaxing. I always forgot how big he was,
probably because of how gracefully he moved. Maybe that was because
athletes were so in tune with their bodies.
I’d like him to be in tune with my body.
The thought alone made me shift in my seat. And maybe shiver. Just a
little. I could solve my little problem in a snap. I knew he wanted me, too…
I just didn’t know why. Was I just a passing fancy? Someone unattainable
because I didn’t drop my pants and present the moment he’d shown any
interest? If that were the case, he could hit the bricks. I wasn’t that hard up
and I didn’t want him that badly.
Okay, fine, that was a lie. I was that hard up and I did want him that
badly. I’d hate to send him packing without feeling that cock open me up
just once. Maybe twice. You know what? Let’s just play it by fucking ear.
I stared at him, plucking at the rubber bracelet on my wrist. Thinking.
What if his dogged pursuit was more than just maintaining a perfect record
for conquests? Maybe he wanted me as much as I wanted him. No
complications. Just the two of us taking pleasure in each other and fuck the
consequences. Fuck tomorrow. His hand anchored in my hair as I struggled
to swallow as much of his dick as I could manage.
Aaand now I was breathing a little heavily, half-hard behind my zipper.
He rubbed my arm with that big football-roughened hand absently, and I
shifted again, casually pulling a throw pillow over my lap to hide the
evidence of his effect on me.
 When he sighed and flicked off the TV, I blinked at him owlishly. “You
leaving?”
“No, I’m waiting for you to say whatever is making your brain overheat
over there,” he said with a sigh. “Spit it out already.”
Prolly not the time for a ‘that’s what he said’ joke. I sighed wistfully at
the missed opportunity. “Alright, you go first.”
“I don’t have anything to say,” he said exasperatedly.
“No?”
“No.”
“That’s unfortunate,” I said wistfully. “I was really hoping to stall some
more.”
“Fox.”
“Alright, alright.” I blew out a breath. “We’ve been dancing around
things for a while now and the attraction just isn’t going away. So I gotta
ask. What’s your endgame here?”
“I wasn’t aware I needed one,” he said, his brow wrinkled in confusion.
“I just know that I like you. Isn’t that enough?”
Could be, as long as we both knew the terms. There would be no
happily ever after with matching schnauzers and weekend brunches. Just
right now.
I pushed off the couch and turned, straddling him because I was an
incorrigible person who did incorrigible things. He took my weight easily,
his hands on my upper thighs as I sat back on my haunches and met that
steady gaze.
His mouth quirked. “Part of me wants to think this is a good sign. But
then there’s the other part of me that knows nothing with you is quite that
easy.”
I huffed out a laugh. “I’m not looking for anything serious.”
“Check. What else, Jesse?”
The sound of my name on his lips made something in my stomach
flutter a bit. I liked it when he called me Fox in a derisive tone, but when he
called me Jesse…fuck. I sucked in a breath when he pressed kisses across
my jaw.
“If we do this, things are over when you get cleared to play,” I managed.
That got him to pull back in a hurry. He arched a brow. “Mind if I ask
why you’re acting as though our relationship is a vampire and football is the
sun?”
It should be harder to amuse me. It really should.
“Because the media attention on you is going to ramp up and I’m in no
mood for them to tear my life apart.”
“So you’re going to abandon me to the scrutiny?”
“Like I’m a rat and you’re a sinking ship.”
He barked out a laugh. “Anything else?”
“We should keep this as quiet as we can.”
He was starting to look exasperated. Maybe that was because I was
putting more fine print on a little dalliance than an Apple contract.
“I wasn’t planning on taking out a billboard,” he growled. “Maybe we
should get my attorney in here. Just to make sure we’ve addressed all the
terms and conditions to fucking on a couch.”
“Dramatic, much?” His hands made a slow journey up my thighs and
around to my ass, and it was hard to remember what I was going to say. “I
just want to do the smart thing before things get all...all….”
I couldn’t seem to finish that thought as he kissed a path down the side
of my neck. Hot, open-mouthed kisses that sucked lightly at my skin and
made my cock jump in my pants.
“All what?” His voice was just a rumble against my skin.
“Um…what?”
He looked amused. “You should tell me now if you don't want this.”
His stubble scratched against my skin, ever so slightly, giving me an
unexpected, full-body shiver. The noise I made was suspiciously close to a
squeak. He laughed against my skin before he sucked a patch into his
mouth. “You can’t—”
“I won’t mark you,” he said softly, accurately guessing my concerns.
As much as I wanted him to bite and suck and go nuts on my neck, I
couldn’t show up to the center looking like I’d volunteered as tribute for a
bunch of vampires. I was supposed to be a good example for the kids for
God’s sake. Not someone who’d gotten his rocks off…which I was
absolutely about to do.
“Well, I know you like terms and conditions,” he said with a wicked
little grin. “What else do you like?”
It was strange that such an easy question practically short-circuited my
brain. I wasn’t sure Trace had ever asked me that. We did what he wanted to
do. We fucked how he wanted to fuck. My past relationships weren’t much
better. Maybe I just gravitated toward a certain kind of guy because it was
comfortable. When you’re a giver, you attract takers. That was just human
nature. I didn’t know what the fuck to do when faced with another giver.
It took me a few seconds to realize that honeyed gaze was still trained
on me, his thumbs caressing the skin right above my jeans and slightly
under my shirt. I stared at him so long that he raised an eyebrow
questioningly. “To what do I owe this Jesse shutdown?”
I could feel the blush rising on my face. I was so far from virginal it
wasn’t even funny, and here I was acting like this was my first time. As
usual, he knocked me off-kilter with little effort at all.
“Maybe you just don’t want to tell me,” he said, his tone laced with a
hint of playfulness even under the arousal. That was Andrew in a nutshell.
He made the simplest of things fun—I didn’t know why I’d think sex would
be any different.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m thinking whips and chains. Or furry suits.” He bit my ear playfully.
“You’re a dirty old man, Jesse, and I’m not doing any of that.”
I narrowed my eyes. “If you don’t jettison that old man shit, the only
thing you’re getting is a knee to the balls.”
He grinned. “Then I’ll ask you again, dirty old—dearest youthful
Jesse,” he amended as I lifted my knee a pinch. “What do you want?”
I couldn’t quite come up with anything more lucid than you. “I don’t
know,” was all I could manage.
“You don’t know? Or you’re afraid to say?”
To him? No, I felt perfectly safe to say whatever I wanted to say. Or do.
He was roughly about twice my size, and yet I wasn’t afraid of him at all.
He was always so good-natured that it was hard to match him up with the
guy on the field who didn’t seem to mind getting in other players’ faces. Or
the guy who wasn’t afraid to get physical for a dirty hit. In one memorable
YouTube video, they needed three players to get between him and a
defensive tackle as they jawed off to one other, so close that their helmets
kept knocking together. They reminded me of a pair of angry rams locking
horns. But I guess that was part of the game. This was eons away from that.
“I want your shirt off.” My voice sounded like I’d been gargling with
gravel.
 His eyes flared with surprise and then arousal. I guess I did know what I
wanted. Him, naked, right the fuck now. He leaned back a pinch to do my
bidding. I watched avidly as he revealed a chest that was heavy with
muscles, one that I knew a whole lot of people drooled over routinely on
Instagram. Now it was mine to do with as I pleased…for now, anyway.
I didn’t hesitate, reaching out and running my hands over his skin, all
warm and golden. He was smooth in some places, hair-roughened and
battle-scarred in others. I traced the divots of his stomach, the peaks and
valleys of muscle as his body jumped under my fingers. Just like in his
pictures, the fucker had v-cuts.
I thought that shit was a photoshopped myth.
“What the hell are these?” I demanded, running my hand over the
defined areas. “Real people don’t have these.”
He looked smug. “You can have them, too, Jesse, if you just—”
“Please.” I tweaked his stiffened nipples and he let out a little gasp. “I
have no desire to have such strange things. You might as well tell me how
to grow a unicorn on my ass.”
He spluttered out a laugh that died out as my fingers stole for his
sweatpants. I tugged the drawstring loose and pushed at them until he lifted
his hips to help. I was too impatient—and distracted—to bother to get them
lower than his thighs. His dick bulged and strained in his boxers, already
leaving wet spots on the gray fabric. I had to marvel a little at that sculpted
body. He did a lot of work on himself and it showed.
I reached for him, but he evaded my hands. He went to work on my
clothes instead, whipping my shirt over my head with little ado and tossing
it someplace. My khaki shorts and underwear quickly met the same fate. I
had to get up to get them off and he took that opportunity to get naked as a
jaybird. I quickly scrambled back on his lap and he chuckled at my
eagerness even as he looked me up and down.
I didn’t bother to hide. I was alright with how I looked. I didn’t have
time to sculpt a perfect gym body, nor the inclination. Anyone I slept with
had better know and understand that. Judging from the state of his dick,
straining against his stomach, he didn’t have a problem with that.
I couldn’t wait any longer. I took him in hand, grasping that warm flesh
as I gave him a couple of slow strokes. He was a leaker, and I smeared the
fluid around on the tip and then down the sides before I fisted him. He
groaned as his eyes slid shut.
I hated cheesy talk during sex, and God knew I’d heard enough of it to
last me a lifetime. Still, I couldn’t help but rasp, “You like that?”
“Fuck yes.” He shuddered as I started stroking him in earnest. He
tunneled his hands in my hair and roughly pulled me closer. He crashed his
mouth over mine and we kissed as if the world would surely end if we
didn’t. His tongue plundered my mouth in sync with the rhythmic pulls of
my hand.
“You,” he managed when he pulled away, burying his face in my neck.
“You, too.”
“After.”
“No, now.” He moved my hand out of the way and grasped us both with
his bigger one. I gasped as he started stroking us together . When he asked
if it was good, I couldn’t manage more than a grunt. Yes. Everything he was
doing was just right.
I leaned forward and drew one of his nipples in my mouth. He
immediately jolted, pulling back a pinch, his cheeks blooming with pink.
“They’re a little sensitive.”
I eyed the stiff peaks speculatively because I could take or leave nipple
play. “Sensitive good or sensitive bad?”
“Sensitive like don’t do that again unless you want this to be a quickie.”
“Oh. Well, why didn’t you say so?” I blinked innocently and he sighed
with relief. “I’ll leave them alone.”
Then I leaned forward and licked his nipple again, making him jolt. He
hit the couch with his hand…which had no effect on me stopping
whatsoever. Instead, I sent him a wicked grin as I sucked one in my mouth
and he bucked. I paid undue attention to an area I usually ignored as he
cursed my very existence.
Things got a little blurry as he gave up on holding back. The feel of his
skin against mine as he dragged us through his fist was just short of heaven
and I could only hold on to his shoulders and try to remember how to
breathe. He came first with a harsh groan, uncaring of the mess as he
spurted again and again over the two of us joined in his grip. I tried to hang
on, but sliding through the mess was too damned erotic to watch and feel.
He murmured that I should go ahead, that he had me, and I flew apart, just
like that, adding my release to the mess.
We sat there for a few minutes, unspeaking, foreheads pressed together.
Our shuddered breaths blended in the quiet. Surely all we’d done was part
of the hit it and quit it handbook. So was kissing, again and again, just a
brush of his lips against mine. Had to be.
I finally pulled away to find him something to clean up with. With a
murmur of protest, he reached out to still me. I deftly evaded his grasp. I
was no science major, but I was fairly certain if you hung around
gravitational pull too long, you were eventually consumed by its power.
After we finished cleaning up, I proved that theory. We made small talk
as we found our clothes. We chuckled when I found his shirt hanging on a
lampshade because I didn’t remember doing that shit at all. But we only got
as far as putting on our boxers before we came together in a flurry of limbs
and a mash of his lips on mine.
“Ow,” I pulled back long enough to say. “You bit me, you bastard.”
“Accident,” he panted as I bit his lip right back. Not hard. Just enough
teeth to sting. He growled and lifted me clear off my feet. It was either wind
my legs around his back or get carted around like a broken rag doll.
We ended up on the couch, me flat on my back as he settled between my
upraised thighs, wrapped up in each other all over again. I suppose we
could’ve moved things to the bedroom. Taken things a step further. By
unspoken agreement, we stayed right where we were. Let’s not make this
seem like more than it is.
We frotted and kissed and made out like wild people until he came all
over my hand with a gasp and a shudder. Then he returned the favor with
relish, playing with my hole and making me blush. I assured him that I
wouldn’t be able to come again so soon as he gave his finger a long suck.
“You’re wasting your time,” I insisted.
He tapped my hole with his wet finger and I shivered. “Does it feel
good?”
“Yeah.”
“Then shut up,” he said pleasantly.
The moment he breached my hole, I spasmed and came all over my
stomach. Rat bastard. He just loved proving me wrong. Although it was
hard to deny his methods. He licked up my release as I told him that he was
freaky and gross. Then I kissed him and sucked on his tongue thoroughly
because freaky gross people need friends too.
“I should go,” he said at one point, glancing at his watch. “I have to get
up early for training.”
I could hear the undertones in that deceptively simple statement. He
always had to get up early for training. That wasn’t new. He might as well
say the sun is hot and the ocean is wet. He was giving me an easy out.
“Is that so?” I was proud that my tone was even.
“Yep. So I’d better get moving. I need a shower because you got me all
sticky—”
“Some of that is yours, you bastard—”
“And I like to prepare the fruits and veggies for my smoothies the night
before. Makes it a whole lot quicker in the morning.”
“What kind of smoothie?”
“Supergreens.” He shrugged those big shoulders. “I’m on a spinach,
pineapple, banana kick right now.”
Nervous butterflies’ wings beat in my stomach, trapped in an invisible
cage of their own making. The butterflies all had the same prudent advice.
Tell him to leave, they said anxiously.
I didn’t want an out. And I didn’t want him to leave.
“Interesting fact about this house. It has a shower,” I said casually and
he went still.
“You don’t say.”
I went on, looking anywhere but at those intense amber eyes. “I also
have a blender.”
His mouth twitched in amusement. That motherfucker was going to
make me say it. “I wonder if you have spinach and pineapple.”
“I do.”
“Bananas?”
“Yes.”
“Chia seeds? Can’t have my smoothie without chia seeds.”
I huffed out a laugh because he was right to low-key push me. Maybe
we weren’t looking for anything serious, but that didn’t make what we’d
shared meaningless. I thought he was one of the kindest, most amazing
people I’d ever met. Of course, I wasn’t about to tell him that. But he
deserved more than a half-assed offer of if you like smoothies, I’ve got the
fixins.
“You can manage one day without your stupid chia seeds,” I said, my
voice a little rough. “I’m asking you to stay.”
He stared at me for a few seconds before a smile spread over that sexy,
dangerous mouth. “Well. Since you asked so nicely….”
He rolled us so that he was on top. He was already hard and heavy
against me, and when he rocked a few times, I let out a groan. It felt so
good that my eyes rolled back in my head for a few seconds.
“Again? Seriously? I thought you had plans,” I managed even as I met
every thrust with a thrust of my own. “Showering. Nasty smoothie making.
Sleeping. It was all very adult.”
“Life later,” he said burying his face in the crook of my neck. “Jesse
now.”
I wasn’t sure I’d ever lived by that philosophy. Everything else always
came first, and I got the leftovers. Maybe…maybe I could try it this way,
too. Just for a little while.
“You’re not leaving this house without a rabbit,” I murmured as he
worked his way down my body. “Just in case that’s what this impromptu
blowjob is about.”
“I’ve made my peace with it.” He sounded amused. “I want the black
one.”
“You’re getting the fattest one,” I informed him.
And he took me in his mouth and fried my brain—a thirty-two-ounce
slushy all over my fragile circuitry. A quiver of unease stirred in my gut.
Mostly because I knew that even if he hadn’t been sucking my brains out
through my cock, there was no place in the world I’d rather be. And no one
else I’d want to be with.
Attention, please! We are now starting priority boarding for You Are So
Very Screwed Airlines. I sighed. All that was left was to decide if I wanted
a window or an aisle seat.
16
 ANDREW

“I t’s too big,” I said with a grunt.

Jesse didn’t seem deterred in the least as he leaned in and gave it
another hard push. “It’s not too big.”
I gave him another few seconds of pushing before I complained again.
“I don’t think it’s going to fit.”
“Just watch,” he said, completely assured that he knew what he was
doing…which he did not.
When the unit finally slid into place, I had to eat my words. The rabbit
hutch was not too big and it did fit in the back of my SUV…and by “fit,” I
mean I had to lay the backseats flat and shut the soft-closing cargo lift with
brute force. I wasn’t entirely sure I was going to be able to get it open ever
again.
Maybe it would’ve fit better if Jesse hadn’t jammed ten trash bags,
stuffed full of clothes, in the middle row. He looked all too pleased with
himself as we got in the front, even though the SUV was so packed with
rabbit supplies that he had to carry a bale of hay on his lap.
“I can barely see out the rearview,” I groused, hoping that would put a
crimp in his smugness.
It didn’t.
“We probably shouldn’t take the highway, then.”
“You have one rabbit,” I reminded him. “One tiny little rabbit—”
“You’re one tiny little person, and I’d be willing to bet your house isn’t
exactly small,” he said as he put on his seatbelt.
 “Tiny?” I snorted. “That’s tough talk from someone who barely reaches
my shoulder on a good day.”
“Just wait until I get my orthopedic inserts,” he swore.
I guffawed, not bothering to inform him that even with platform shoes
he’d still be a small fry compared to me. Talking about his height was a
good way to get on Jesse’s shit list. Unfortunately, his shit list was like a
timeshare—easy to get on, a misery to get out of.
“It’s not like you put Moon Pie in a small hutch, either,” he accused. “I
saw the picture. The damned thing has two levels. By that standard, my
bunny’s hutch is a smart little efficiency.”
“You mean the smart little efficiency that’s causing me to drive blind?”
“You have side view mirrors,” he said patting my thigh. That was a lot
of confidence for someone who expected me to merge using crossed fingers
and hope. “I still can’t believe you named that rabbit Moon Pie.”
“Says the man who named his rabbit Shortcake.”
“Her favorite treat happens to be strawberries. What else would you
have me name her?”
He gave me a snooty look before I could answer Strawberry. I had a
good duh ready to go, too. “To the mission, Jeeves,” he announced. “As
soon as we drop these clothes off, we’ll have plenty of space.”
“People pay for this kind of service,” I groused. “Believe it or not, I
have better things to do than ferry you all over the city.”
He didn’t look worried as he looked out the window. He hummed in
response, still clutching his hay. “Then why do you keep offering?”
Good fucking question. He’d gotten several other offers from his
coworkers at the center. I mean, the nerve. I was chauffeuring Jesse around
and I didn’t take kindly to any Johnny-come-latelys.
That pest control fuck, Denny, had even popped up earlier today. I’d
managed to weasel between him and Jesse just in the nick of time. I
maintained my smile until Jesse hurried off to sign for a phantom package
from the fake-ass delivery guy that I swore was in the lobby. Then I
informed Denny in no uncertain terms that he was to apply his second coat
of poison and pellets and git. Or else I’d apply some pressure to his trachea.
Jesse’s phone binged with a text and he glanced at it before telling me,
“Madge says we can pull around to the service door with the donations.”
“Will do.”
 “Fair warning before we get there—don’t look her in the eyes,” he said
in a tone reserved for making plans to murder someone. “She has some
magic hoodoo that can find the volunteer spirit in anyone. Before you know
it, you’ve signed all your weekends away and you can’t remember why.”
“You love it,” I said with a little grin.
“Yeah, I do. But I’m fully booked for the next two months.” He
grimaced. “More than, actually.”
I could testify to that. I wasn’t sure where he got the time. It seemed like
he was always doing, making, or delivering something, and he rarely left
the Harbor without a laundry list of more things he just had to do.
“You could tell her no,” I said carefully.
Suggesting that Jesse cut down on the charity work was like waving a
red flag in front of a bull. It was pretty much the only thing that he and
Joshua argued about. They kept it behind closed doors, but the center walls
were thin enough to wrap a spring roll.
“It’s not that easy.”
You can’t save the whole world, Jesse. I gave it one more try. “You can
lead a life of service and still make time for yourself.”
“I think calling it a life of service is stretching it a tad.” When I glanced
over his way, his brows were drawn tougher in a vee. “And if I don’t do it,
who will?”
“Everyone. We’re all supposed to do our part. You treat it almost like…
like a mission or something, a mission that you absolutely can’t fail. And
even when you’re already at your limit, you take on more.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he murmured.
“It’s not. But…do you have room in your life for anything else?”
“Like what?”
Like me.
I bit back those words as I turned the corner, mostly because I knew
they wouldn’t be welcomed. The homeless shelter came into view and I let
out a quiet sigh of relief. Jesse seemed happy to drop the conversation as
well as he directed me to the right side of the building.
The service door was already propped open as I put the car in park. A
woman poked her head out of the door at the sound of my engine and
beamed as she hurried out to greet us. She introduced herself as Madge to
me, then grabbed Jesse in a hug.
 Madge looked to be in her late sixties. Her skin was still smooth, firm,
and flushed with health. The only homage to her age was the thin webbing
of lines around her deep-set gray eyes, and a liberal sprinkling of gray in
her chestnut-colored braid.
As Jesse opened the backseat door of my SUV, Madge made her way
over to me. She took my hands in hers and gave them a brief squeeze. Her
hands were hearty and weathered, and it was clear that she did more than
push papers all day.
“You must be Andrew,” she said. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
“Good things, I hope,” I said.
“Great things, actually. Jesse can’t stop raving about the things you’re
doing down at the center. Just last week—”
“I think we can put the clothes in the donation room,” Jesse said loudly,
pushing one of the bags in my arms. His cheeks were pink as he added
another two bags on top of that. “Madge, will you lead the way?”
I peered over Bag Mountain at a grinning Madge and winked. “We’ll
talk later.”
“We’re busy later,” Jesse said tartly as he marched past, clutching two
bags. “We have plans. You remember the plans?”
“No, I’m free as a bird,” I said cheerfully as I fell in line. I was glad he
was in front because I was pretty sure he wanted to deliver a swift kick to
my posterior.
Madge led us down a hall that was lined with grocery bags to a small
room equipped with tons of shelves. Different supplies occupied each row,
all neatly organized and labeled.
“Excuse the mess,” she said. “We received a donation from a woman
who was featured on an extreme coupon show.”
Jesse chuckled. “Ramen noodles, toothpaste, and sports drinks galore?”
“Mmhmm, and we’re going to use every single item.”
After we deposited the clothes, Madge walked us back out. By the time
we reached the parking lot, she was carrying the majority of the
conversation. I had a feeling she’d talked a few ears clean off in her day.
Jesse didn’t seem to mind …the talking, at least. He gave me several
sidelong glances as I listened shamelessly, my arms folded as I leaned
against the service door. Any Jesse tidbits Madge let drop, I wanted to hear.
 I wasn’t sure why I found him so fascinating. The more I learned, the
more I wanted to know. I’d felt that way from the very start. He’d been
about as prickly and defensive as one could get, which let me know one
thing—there was something worth protecting inside. You didn’t build an
eight-foot-tall spiked fence around junk.
As I got to know him better, I got the occasional glimpse over his fence.
He was sweet. Funny. Compassionate. And with the kids or animals, he was
just a few marshmallows short of fluff. I liked everything I saw, right before
he slammed the gate on my nose.
From my nosy listening, I gathered his visits to the shelter were
biweekly. He also volunteered at charity drives. Madge was also enthused
about the new mobile shower unit they’d raised money for. The homeless
could take a ten-minute shower in the unit on certain days of the week, no
questions asked.
When she started going on about how Joshua was so proud of him,
Jesse cleared his throat, cutting her off. He turned to me, the tips of his ears
nice and red. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“It’s all good,” I said with a sweet smile.
“You’d probably be cooler waiting in the car.”
“Is it hot?” I glanced up at the sky, where the sun was assaulting us like
we’d stolen its wallet. “I hadn’t noticed.”
He huffed and gave me his back.
Before we’d left, she roped him into two new projects. The first
involved serving meals at one of their sister locations. The other centered
around their bake sale. She needed him to bake something and run the sale
for a few hours.
I bit my lip to hide a smile. Those green eyes warned me over Madge’s
head that I’d better not say a word…even if the word was pushover. I hadn’t
seen any evidence of Madge’s hoodoo—just vintage Jesse and his inability
to say no to helping people. If he saw a way to step in, he did. And even
though I was going to give him shit for it, that made him a pretty amazing
guy.
“You just have to bring your double chocolate chip brownies,” Madge
gushed. “They sold out last time in less than ten minutes.”
I gave him an accusing stare. This was the first I was hearing of such.
The guy who was schlepping your ass around town should be first in line
for a freshly baked pan of double chocolatey nirvana.
“Brownies coming right up,” Jesse said, his cheeks adorably pink from
the compliment. “Just let me know when you need them.”
“Wonderful. And the meal service? Can you do that, too?” She patted
his hand. “It’s going to be in West Palm, so feel free to tell me you’re too
busy, dear.”
I’m sure he would if he knew how. Before he even agreed, I wondered
how I was going to work my schedule to be there...because he was going to
agree.
“It won’t be a problem,” he said predictably.
“What day is it?” I asked. “I might have practice.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Jesse said, waving a breezy hand. “I’ll have my
car back long before then.”
“You can’t drive that death trap to West Palm.”
“Can and have, actually.”
“Well, I hope you gave thanks to whatever deity helped you make it
back alive.”
“You mean Red’s AutoBody Shop?” His tone was mild, but I could hear
the annoyance simmering beneath his carefully placid exterior. “If
something happens to my vehicle, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of
it.”
“Did I say you weren’t?”
Madge’s gaze ping-ponged back and forth between the two of us,
looking a little speculative. I didn’t have to wonder why. We sounded like
an old married couple arguing about who ate the last bran muffin. Dammit,
Edith, you know the doctor said it was important for me to be regular.
“It’s on a Monday,” Madge ventured. “We start around noon.”
“Isn’t that interesting?” Jesse’s face took on a smug cast. He knew I
couldn’t make it. Practice wasn’t even over until three, and then I had shit
to do afterward. “Don’t you find that interesting, Andrew?”
“Yes, it’s a real scream,” I said dryly.
I hated the thought of Jesse long distances in that rust bucket of his. I
wish he’d just let me give him one of mine, but he treasured Nina for some
reason.
I rubbed the back of my neck. I needed to chill. Jesse had been
navigating this world ten years before I was even a thought in the universe.
He didn’t need my help. Or advice. But I was allowed to care about a
friend, wasn’t I? I liked to think we’d at least become friends.
“Maybe you should just borrow my truck,” I finally said.
“Then what will you drive?”
“Any one of my other three cars,” I said exasperatedly. “I’d say don’t be
stubborn, but I know you were born that way.”
His eyes narrowed. Judging from the flush on his pretty face, I was
pretty sure his next words weren’t going to be, Thank you, Andrew, for
being so kind and generous. You also look fucking hot today. Blue really is
your color.
Madge could see the writing on the wall, too. She hurriedly clapped her
hands. “That sounds perfect. I’m so glad this all worked out. I love when
couples work out their differences.”
“We are not a couple,” we said together and then sent each other
identical looks of discomfort.
Madge smiled slyly. “Whatever you say.”
17
 ANDREW

B etween Jesse and Shortcake, I thought Jesse might be the most pleased
with the hutch. After wrestling it in the door, we set it up in the living
room. Then we sat on the floor and finished kitting it out with supplies.
I won’t lie, Jesse did most of the work. My part of the process involved
a lot of lounging on the carpet. I stretched out on my side, propped up on
one elbow, watching as he went all Martha Stewart on the hutch. The water
bottle went up, along with a new salt lick. Then he spread out the hay with
the kind of concentration that should be resolved for neurosurgery.
Shortcake watched the entire process disinterestedly. She didn’t even
perk up when Jesse picked her up and deposited her gently inside her new
rabbit kingdom. We sat, watching her hop about for a bit as she inspected
her new digs, waiting for the verdict. We didn’t have to wait long.
She thumped her foot hard enough to make me jump and the hutch
rattle, then sat there giving us side-eye. I moved and her eye seemed to
follow even though she hadn’t moved an inch, like some creepy Victorian
painting.
I glanced at Jesse uneasily. “Is that rabbit for thank you for the hutch or
you should’ve sprung for the second floor, you cheap bastard?”
Jesse snorted. “My Shortcake would never be so ill-mannered.”
I didn’t know about all that. After all, her next move was to turn away
and give us a primo view of her furry butt. “If you say so.”
Jesse folded his legs, resting his elbows on his knees. A little smile
played on his mouth as he watched her enjoy the fruits of his labor. He
seemed different at home. More relaxed. It was more than just his outfit—
soft gray jeans and a short-sleeved plaid shirt open over a white tank top. Or
the bare feet. He always kicked his shoes off when he got home, no matter
how brief. It was almost like the moment he walked through that door, he
put down his mantle of responsibility.
Maybe it was because he’d made his home so cozy. I’d hired a decorator
because I had no time and questionable taste, and even though she’d done a
great job, it didn’t feel like this. Lived in. Loved.
My gaze drifted to the photos on the wall and landed on a familiar face.
Joshua. Of course. He had his arms around a tall, willowy woman with
short red hair. A small boy was in front of them holding up bunny ears.
It was only one of ten pictures, but it was still weird. I didn’t have
Coach’s picture up on my wall. I shifted uncomfortably, trying to convince
myself I wasn’t so petty as to be jealous of a relationship so pure.
“I didn’t know Joshua was married,” I said.
“He was, yes.” Jesse eyed me speculatively. “And?”
“And I’m just asking.”
I wasn’t sure if he was even capable of answering personal questions
without looking like he’d rather chew nails. Oh well. I made a U-turn and
drove the petty bus by again.
“So what’s the deal with you and Joshua Knox?”
“I told you. He’s my mentor.” He shrugged. “You have a mentor, don’t
you?”
“Of course,” I said promptly. “I’ve had coaches along the way that have
inspired me. In high school, it was Coach Taggart. He was the first person
who believed I could go pro.”
“What about your parents?”
“Don’t get me wrong, they believed in me. But they also wanted me to
look at other options because they knew the odds.” I smiled a little. “My
father was good for telling me that only a lucky chicken had better put all
his eggs in one basket.”
“Lucky chicken.” Jesse tilted his head, mulling over the words. “I think
that would be an amazing nickname for you. Even better than Allstate or
AJ. Quick, I need the number of one of your teammates.”
I’d be damned if I had Lucky Chicken graffitied on the back of my
Tahoe. “Do it and die,” I said pleasantly.
 Shortcake’s water dispenser clickety-clacked as she attacked it with
fervor. After a few moments, Jesse reached out and adjusted the tilt of the
bottle so she’d have better access. “Joshua helped kids like me. Street kids.”
“You were homeless?” I blurted. The thought of Jesse out there on the
streets as a kid—maybe scared, probably hungry—was enough to make me
sick to my stomach.
“For a little while.”
From the evasive way he avoided my gaze, I wondered exactly how
long a little while encapsulated. I knew better than to pick at that particular
thread. I mentally instructed myself not to interrupt, either. It had already
taken an act of Congress to get him to open up this much.
“And then came Joshua?” I asked.
“Sort of. He didn’t exactly find me, though. Due to his community
outreach efforts, he’d become good friends with a couple of officers on the
beat. I had a…let’s just say run-in with one of them. He decided to give me
a second chance instead of hauling my butt to jail.”
“Jail?” I all but shouted. At his amused look, I flushed. “Sorry. It’s just
hard to picture you of all people doing anything to warrant jail.”
The amusement fled from his face just as quickly as it had appeared.
“Yeah, well. Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“Maybe not,” I said evenly. “But I want to.”
From the look on his face, that wasn’t exactly the kind of news he
wanted to hear. Well too fucking bad. “And why is that?”
“I don’t know,” I said testily. Sometimes pushing for answers sucked.
To get hard truths you had to reveal hard truths. “Maybe because I’ve never
met anyone like you before.”
I expected—and maybe even welcomed—his annoyance. His
frustration. I didn’t expect the little smile that curved his mouth. “Smart,
successful, and oh-so-handsome?”
“Annoying,” I corrected. “I just know that I like and admire you. I’d
like to know a little about what makes you tick. And maybe you could stop
acting like that’s a fucking crime.”
I expected him to clam up after all that, but as usual, Jesse delighted in
keeping me on my toes. He laid flat on his back on the carpet and linked his
fingers over his stomach. “Okay,” he said blowing out a breath. “What do
you want to know?”
 Everything. “Tell me more about Joshua,” I finally said.
“Well, he didn’t start in community outreach. He was an
ophthalmologist with a successful practice. He had a wife and a stepson,
Dale, and everything was picture perfect until his wife was murdered by
some junkie in a gas station robbery. If she stopped for gas two minutes
earlier, she would’ve missed him entirely.” He stared at the ceiling as he
spoke. “Life is kind of funny that way.”
“Yeah, it’s a real riot.”
He snorted. “You know what I mean. Anyway, Dale was twelve at the
time, and he was pretty sure that Joshua was going to send him back to
Arkansas to live with his bio dad.”
“Was his bio dad a bad guy?”
“No, but he had a new family, a wife and three girls, and the new family
negated the old.” Jesse shrugged. “He made that clear when he stopped in
after the funeral. He paid his condolences, called Dale buddy a handful of
times like he couldn’t quite remember his name, and told him to take care.”
“So Joshua kept him.”
“Exactly. And they threw away the step part of the equation. Joshua was
just…his dad.”
Jesse chewed his lip as he struggled to find the right words. I couldn’t
resist reaching out to touch his mouth with a gentle finger. Staring, he let
his abused lip slide out from under the prison of his teeth. It took everything
in me not to close the distance between us.
I forced myself to pull back. If I kissed him the vault would be closed.
There was no telling when he’d open up to me again.
“So what happened?” I asked.
“In his junior year of high school, Dale came out to Joshua and it didn’t
go so well. He kicked him out.”
I could tell it physically pained Jesse to say those words about his
mentor. I ground my teeth to keep from saying anything I couldn’t take
back. But fuck. I knew how it felt to gather up your courage and take a
chance on the people that swore that they loved you.
This is who I am. You said you loved me no matter what. Now prove it.
I could remember telling my parents that I was bisexual in my first year
of college. My childhood home and my college town seemed like they were
worlds apart—distance-wise. Newsflash? It’s a small world after all. A
neighbor, Mrs. Price, had seen me out on a date with a guy, and couldn’t tell
my parents fast enough when her broomstick landed back in Florida.
My mother had left me a carefully worded message asking me to call
them, and my hands turned to ice because I just knew. I sat there on the
edge of my bed, shaking, as Everett asked me what was wrong, reflecting
on how fucking strange our world was. How could the love of your parents
ever be a question? How could it even be a possibility that they could take a
look at all the parts that made you…well, you, and toss them in the trash?
My folks had risen to the occasion, and I was so very thankful. It had
been hard enough to accept myself—I didn’t need any other negative voices
in the mix.
“What did Dale do?” I asked.
“He couch surfed for a while. By the time Joshua changed his warped
thinking, a year had passed. Dale had dropped out of school and was out on
the streets. He’d started doing unsavory things to make money. To survive,
really.”
“I don’t like where this is going,” I said quietly.
Jesse sighed. “It was another two years of desperate searching before
Joshua finally found him. He apologized and asked Dale to come home, but
sometimes it truly is too little, too late.”
Shortcake started demolishing a carrot and fuck, that shit was crunchy.
No, beyond crunchy with a “u”—we were approaching peak levels of
cronchy. I wanted to shush her so I could fucking hear. “What happened
then?”
“Allyson happened. Dale got a fellow addict pregnant and they decided
to make a go of things. She was born addicted to cocaine and her mother
overdosed before she was even six months old. That was Dale’s wake-up
call. He took Joshua up on an offer of rehab and got clean and sober. He
lives in Delaware now with Allyson and his partner, George, who’s a
dentist. Allyson has some challenges, but by all reports, she’s a happy little
girl.”
I didn’t buy his all’s well that ends well summary, but I knew I’d already
pushed him way out of his comfort zone. “I’m kind of surprised Joshua
hasn’t moved up there. If not for Dale, then to be with his grandkid.”
“Dale doesn’t want him to. They’re trying to build a bridge over the
past, but they have a lot of work to do. They have Zoom meetings with their
therapist once a month, and they talk a few times a week. Just to keep the
lines of communication open.” Jessie shrugged. “It’s not nearly where
Joshua wishes their relationship could be, but he’s being patient.”
“Guess I know why he started Rainbow Harbor now.”
“Yeah. It was a labor of love. Maybe it didn’t start from the best place,
but it evolved into so much more than a physical manifestation of his
regret.” He was quiet for a moment as he watched Shortcake licking her
orange-tinted paws. “I’m not blind to his faults. He’s not a perfect man and
hasn’t always done the right thing. But when I say I will always be grateful
to Joshua Knox, I mean it.”
“Yeah, I think I’m a little grateful to him, too.”
“Yeah? And why is that?”
“Because without him, I wouldn’t have met you.”
The truth sat between us like a fragile, delicate thing. We didn’t look at
it or touch it, afraid it would shatter into a million intangible pieces.
Jesse’s expression was unreadable as he looked at me, those green eyes
intense as he searched my face. “And that’s a good thing?”
It’s the best fucking thing.
“I’m starting to think so, yeah.” I smiled at him crookedly. “I like you...
a lot more than I probably should. Especially considering your uncanny
ability to make me want to pull out my hair.”
“Not to be unoriginal, but I like you, too.”
“I know,” I said modestly.
His laugh was mostly just an exhalation of air. When he hit my
shoulder, I grabbed his hand and entwined my fingers with his. I cupped his
jaw with my hand, brushing my thumb across his cheek as he inhaled
swiftly.
Every time. It was like a gut punch. Just the simplest touch and the
world fell away. And I knew he felt it, too, no matter what he said. After a
few seconds, it seemed like the honesty was a bit too much because he
pushed at my shoulder until I was flat on my back. And then he climbed on
top, which was pretty much the best thing that had happened to me all day.
Then he leaned forward and took my lips in a blistering kiss that nearly
curled my toes. I was so startled that I was still for a few moments, letting
him control the kiss. That was long enough for him to tangle his fingers in
my hair and angle my face the way he liked it. He pulled back, just far
enough to gauge my expression, and raised an eyebrow.
Well, fuck yes, I was surprised. Up until this point it had been me
pushing Jesse…fuck if I knew what to do when he pushed back. “Again,” I
said impatiently.
The corner of his mouth kicked up before he closed the distance
between us again. He got me going from zero to sixty in less than three
seconds. “Supercar kissing,” I said dreamily when he finally pulled back.
“Dare I ask?” When I explained, his quizzical look turned amused. “I
would’ve never guessed you were so fucking cheesy.”
“You like cheese,” I protested.
“I lo—do like cheese,” he agreed, looking flustered.
“Is my hearing going or is it yours? ’Cause that’s what I just said,” I
said with a little grin. “Now kiss me again, Foxy.”
His gaze dropped to my mouth and his tongue darted out to lick his
lips…and I sighed. Vintage Jesse. He should be licking me, not himself.
Such a contrary man. He glanced at his watch. “We really should get back
to the center. Molly is running a craft class and I should help supervise.”
“Lot of shoulds in that sentence, J.”
I slid my hands from the small of his back and down to his ass. He
swiftly inhaled. I could see his pulse in his neck, ticking away at
hummingbird speed. I gripped his sweet cheeks in those worn jeans,
wondering if he’d ever let me do more than grope and fantasize.
“Jesse, I hate to be the one to tell you this.” I bit my lip and heaved a
dramatic sigh. “I mean, this hurts me more to say than for you to hear.”
“You can tell me anything. You know that.” His brow furrowed. “What
is it?”
I made sure my eyes were full of pity. “You have zero artistic talent.”
He looked amused even as he flicked the back of my head. I ducked
with a yelp. “Cute. I said supervise, not lead the class. The kids can get kind
of rowdy.”
“She’s got it under control and you know it.”
If nothing else, I could teach him how to delegate. There was plenty of
time to get everything done and still have a little Jesse time to himself. The
world wouldn’t end because he had a few harmless kisses. I guess since we
weren’t relationship material, those kisses wouldn’t always be with me.
 Huh.
I didn’t want to pursue that particular line of thought. Brain said I had
no choice. I could picture him kissing some other guy in his office. The
mystery guy was about Jesse’s height—so, short as fuck—with dark hair.
And glasses. He was an intellectual, someone who liked to talk about the
state of the world over coffee.
Dream Guy was nothing like me. I didn’t do coffee—the caffeine
wreaked havoc on my system. And I could be honest and admit I was less
informed about world affairs than I needed to be. A lot of people thought
playing football was mostly physical, but that wasn’t the case. There were
plays to study and memorize and strategies I needed to know backward and
forward. The last thing I wanted to do when I got home was turn on
something serious like the news. It didn’t help that the news was usually
bad. Dream Guy would love the news. He’d probably insist on watching
some before bed. The next day, they’d go right back out into the world to do
their oh-so-important charity work.
He didn’t have a face or a name, but that’s the kind of guy Jesse would
end up with. Not some boneheaded NFL player who always found himself
in the news for all the wrong reasons.
Maybe Dream Guy would be Greg from the mission. At the bake sale,
he’d been a bumbling fool around Jesse. When he’d asked Jesse out for “a
coffee or something,” he blushed so hard I thought he might catch fire. I
offered to splash him in the face with some hand-squeezed lemonade...you
know, to be helpful. Then Jesse had neatly stepped on my foot.
Jesse’s fingers landed on my brow, just a light touch smoothing out the
frown lines there. He looked at me speculatively as he asked me softly,
“Everything okay?”
The normally prickly Jesse being gentle threatened to turn me to mush.
You firm right the fuck back up, I instructed my insides. This was nothing
more than a temporary infatuation. We’d look back on it as the time we
both lost our minds and did something stupid but oh-so-necessary.
“I need you.” At my words, his eyes darkened to reflect the same want
that was burning me up inside.
“You have me.”
And then he was kissing me again, which was a good thing. That way I
couldn’t blurt out how much I wished that were true.
18
 ANDREW

M y brother’s wife really needed to get a hobby. Kim was obsessed with
setting me up. I dropped in for lunch with my brother at the Grill and
she made sure we were seated in Quinn’s section, who had a huge crush on
me that was equal parts sweet and embarrassing. The second time she
spilled juice on the table, I glared at Grant.
To his credit, he looked a little sheepish. He waited for Quinn to bustle
off before he murmured, “She means well. You know how Kim can be.”
I sighed because yeah the fuck I did. I glanced over at the kitchen
window across the busy bar and only caught a glimpse of a shadow and a
fluff of brown ponytail as she disappeared from view.
Quinn was a nice girl. Pretty. Sweet. But she wasn’t the person
occupying the majority of my thoughts. No, that dubious honor belonged to
a certain person who shall remain nameless—cough, Jesse—that decided to
answer my amazing hey text with a simple hey of his own. I huffed. We
were about two degrees away from s’up, bro, and that was unacceptable.
As if she hadn’t been watching her handiwork through the pass-through,
Kim swept out of the kitchen with two brunch specials. “Waffles, anyone?”
“Always,” I said, leaning my head toward her as she bussed me on the
cheek. She went to Grant’s side of the table and dropped a kiss on his lips.
When she tried to move away, he tugged on her apron and pulled her back.
She giggled and slapped his hand.
I watched them fondly for a few seconds before my attention was
diverted to the mountain of food she’d placed on the table. Buttery waffles,
crisp bacon, sausage, and scrambled eggs. I gave my stomach the heads up
for the crime that was about to happen.
“Everything okay out here?” She gave a red-faced Quinn, who was
waiting on a table nearby, an anxious look.
“It’s not going to happen, honey,” Grant answered for us both, mostly
because I was doing my level best to cram half a waffle in my mouth. “I
have a feeling AJ here is stuck on someone else.”
I wasn’t about to stop chewing to respond to such nonsense. Besides,
the only rejoinder I had on deck was, “how the fuck can you tell?” Was I
emanating I’m stuck on Jesse rays from my body?
“Is that what you two were talking about?” She wanted to know.
“No, I was just telling AJ here that he has the table manners of a water
buffalo.”
Now that was worth swallowing quickly for—a good comeback waits
for no man. “And I was just telling Grant that even though the sight of his
face ruins my appetite, I’m going to persevere.”
She rolled her eyes skyward and muttered, “Why do I even bother?”
“Because you love us,” we singsonged as she marched back to the
kitchen.
We talked as we ate, getting caught up on each other’s lives. Weather,
work, and sports also made the cut. Eventually, we made our way back
around to our mother and her secret relationship. Or at least I did. Grant
seemed oddly quiet about the whole affair. Maybe he was just processing—
I know I certainly was.
“I swear to God she must secretly be former Special Forces,” I said
polishing off the last of my meal. I reached for Grant’s last strip of bacon
and he smacked my hand. “I can’t seem to catch her with this guy.”
“Mmhmm.”
“I thought I had him for a minute when I stopped by to pick up some
muffins for the church bake sale. I saw something out the back window and
I swear that fucker must’ve dived in the pool.” I frowned as I thought. “By
the time I got out there, there was nothing but wet footprints.”
He laughed weakly. “You’re kidding.”
“No joke. I mean, really. What does she think I’m gonna do? Kill ’im?”
“Exactly.”
“Of course, I would if necessary. But I want her to be happy.”
 “Uh-huh.”
“If he makes her happy, then whatever.”
“Right.”
“So.” I took a long sip of my juice, eyeing him over my glass. “Who is
he?”
“Huh?” He froze, his cheeks still full, and hurried to swallow. “What?”
“Grant, you’ve never been this agreeable in your whole life. Obviously
you know something.”
“Hey, I’m agreeable.”
“Oh yeah?” I arched an eyebrow. “T-bone steak is better than a ribeye.”
“What?” He nearly shouted. “You can’t beat the fucking marbling on a
ribeye. Fat equals flavor.”
I took another sip of my juice while he got himself under control. I
didn’t bother to speak because we both knew I’d proved my point.
“Okay, okay. You got me.” He groaned as he tossed his fork on his
empty, syrup-laden plate and slouched in the booth. “I know.”
“I know you know, you fuck. Now I wanna know.”
“Don’t freak out,” he warned.
“I’ll freak out if I want to.”
“How reassuring.” He blew out a breath. “It’s Glenn.”
“Glenn? The only Glenn I know is Dad’s best friend,” I said slowly.
“And you can’t possibly be telling me some shit like that.”
He rubbed his temples with a sigh. “Yeah.”
“Uncle Glenn?”
He shushed me. “She’s working in the kitchen today. Could you keep it
down?”
I glanced at the pass-through window cautiously before I hissed,
“How’d you find out?”
“I stopped by her house to see if she was free for dinner, and she was
getting ready for a date. She was all over the place emotion-wise. Nervous
and excited and a little worried about what I’d think.” He shook his head at
the memory, a mixture of sadness and surprise on his face as he relived it all
over again. “I thought it was pretty cute. When Uncle Glenn pulled up in
the driveway, I went out to meet him and I still didn’t get it.”
“What do you mean?”
 “I ushered him in the house and joked that we should stick around and
scare the shit out of her date. Then I took in the suit and tie and flowers and
his pale sweaty face and got the picture.”
Dad had been gone for some time now, and she was still young. I didn’t
expect her to be alone forever. But why Glenn? He’d been in our family
since I was a kid. I trusted him…Dad trusted him. My brain struggled to
comprehend very simple facts. We’d leaned on him after Dad had passed
and now he was making his move?
“We owe it to her to be supportive,” Grant reminded me.
“I know that. But shit.”
From the expression on his face, he didn’t disagree. He rubbed his
hands down his face, looking tired. “Enough of that. You busy tonight?”
If you counted getting my rocks off with Jesse “busy” then, yes. Quite.
We had plans to have dinner and then whatever. His cheeks had been quite
pink when he said whatever, and I’d been hard pressed to hide a grin.
Unless someone was on fire, I wasn’t missing my whatever tonight.
“Um, why do you ask?” I hedged.
“Liam has a recital. I’m sure he’d love it if his uncle could pop by.”
I wanted to groan. I had to go because I loved that kid. And it was going
to be misery because he wasn’t exactly…musically inclined. To be fair,
neither were most of the kids at Susan’s Music House.
“Can I bring a guest?” I asked. I mean, why should I hog all the
suffering to myself?
“Of course,” Grant said with a shrug. “The more the merrier.”
“Great. I’ll ask Jesse later.”
“Jesse. He’s the one that gave you the rabbit, isn’t he?”
“That would be him, yeah.” I tried hard to keep the stupid little smile off
my face. Judging from the way Grant’s brow arched sharply, I didn’t
entirely succeed. “It was supposed to be a temporary thing, but when I
asked if he’d found her a good home yet, he just smiled and offered more
hay for her hutch.”
Grant chuckled. “Yeah, I wouldn’t count on getting rid of that thing any
time soon.”
“Her name is Moon Pie, thanks very much,” I said, much to his
amusement. “Jesse has her sister, Shortcake. But I feel like he gave me the
biggest one.”
 Grant laughed. “It’s a tiny little rabbit. How much can she eat?”
“You’d be surprised. And her favorite treats are strawberries and
raspberries.” I resisted the urge to show him the picture of her eating two
sliced strawberries on my coffee table. “I was afraid to give her something
too sweet at first, but Jesse said—”
“You know, you talk about him a lot.” A small smile played on Grant’s
mouth. “Interesting.”
“Not interesting,” I said firmly. “He’s a nice guy and we have a good
time.”
“How good of a time?”
“Have you ever been choked with a waffle?” I threatened.
“I guess I’ll put Jesse on the list of things we’re not talking about,” he
said mildly.
Fine by me. I didn’t know what we were doing, but it felt too special to
go under Grant’s microscope. Jesse made me feel good and I liked to think I
did the same for him. After a long period of suck, it was nice to have
something to feel good about. I wanted to leave it at that.
Some of what I was feeling must’ve shown on my face because Grant
chuckled. “I’m just messing with you. It’s nice to see that you’ve found
someone.”
“I haven’t found someone.”
“Then good, it’s nice to see that you’ve found no one.”
I threw up my hands. “I’m gonna go talk to mom.”

I wasn’t surprised to see my mother working in the kitchen. Grant and Kim
were supposed to be handling daily operations, but she’d been working at
the Grill so long that it was hard to do anything else. She gave me a
distracted little smile as I donned an apron without asking and cinched it
around my waist.
“Put me to work,” I said, a phrase I lived to regret.
I soon found myself mired in vegetable-prep hell. Luckily, I’d worked
in a kitchen long enough to know how to get us out of the weeds. Around
us, the kitchen staff bustled on in organized chaos, dishes clanking, orders
being called out. Henrietta, one of the waitresses who’d been with the Grill
the longest, sailed by with a tray of wings, grousing about the “newfangled
ticket system” that Grant had implemented.
By the time I finished with the lettuce and tomatoes, I’d built up the
courage to broach the unbroachable. I glanced over to find my mother
manning the grill, her pretty face flushed and the hair at her temples damp.
“Can I talk to you about something?”
She sighed. “I’d like to say of course but then you’d ask me about
Glenn and I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
“How did this even start? And be vague,” I said with a grimace.
“You know how I was when your father passed. I’d lost the person I
depended on for most of my life and I didn’t know which way was up. I
lashed out at you boys. Said things I shouldn’t have said.” She frowned
down at the burgers as she flipped them. “I don’t know if I ever apologized
for that.”
I rolled my shoulders uncomfortably. “It’s alright.”
“It’s actually not.” She blew out a breath. “Glenn dropped in to check
on me a few times and we got to talking. It was like…I could finally
breathe, you know? It was such a relief to be able to talk about Lucas.”
It was a struggle not to be defensive, but I wasn’t about to let that little
comment pass. “You could’ve talked to us.”
“I think I did enough of that. You boys were trying to pull your lives
together and I just wanted to wallow in the past. Do you ever notice how
everyone’s grief is so different? You and Grant grieved for him differently
than I did.”
“What do you mean?”
“He was your hero, this larger-than-life figure who never did anything
wrong. To me, he was my friend. My very best friend. I knew his strengths,
but I knew his flaws as well. So did Glenn. His grief just aligned with
mine.” She shrugged as she popped a slice of cheese on each patty and slid
the silver dome over them to melt them into an ooey gooey mess. “It was
nice to talk about Lucas with someone who knew him the way I did.”
“So what, you guys just got together to trash talk dad?”
“No! Of course not.”
“Then what?”
 “Any couple married as long as we’d been married has been through
some stuff, AJ. With Glenn, I didn’t have to pretend Lucas was something
he wasn’t. I could talk about the guy who never managed to remember to
take the trash out. Or who always left wet towels on the floor and snuck
cigarettes when he was out with the guys.” She blew out a breath. “He was
the same guy who made my heart go pitter-pat just from a simple smile and
never forgot a birthday or an anniversary. Talking about every part of him
helped me grieve him as he really was, honey. That’s all.”
“I knew Dad had flaws,” I finally grumbled.
She arched a brow. “Name one.”
I tried. I really did. But all I could see is how tall he was and hear his
booming laugh. He was actually shorter than me by a couple inches, but he
might as well have been Paul frickin’ Bunyan.
“I want Grant punished,” I announced instead of conceding. “He knew
about this and didn’t tell me.”
She huffed out a laugh as she slid the burgers onto waiting buttered
buns. “Eventually those late-night talks about Lucas just turned into talking
period. Then going out to the occasional dinner or movie.”
“And then?” I prompted when she didn’t continue.
“You said be vague.”
“Oh Lord.” My waffles threatened to reappear. “That’s enough, thanks.”
She chuckled softly. “I want you guys to come over to dinner on
Sunday. So you can meet him properly.”
The only meeting I was interested in was that of my fist and Glenn’s
face. “I’ve known Glenn since I was six years old,” I grumbled.
“You’ve already dropped the uncle part of the equation?”
He’s going to have to earn that shit back. “Did I?” I asked innocently.
“I want you to get to know him in a whole new light. For me,” she
added when I didn’t respond. “Maybe you could bring Quinn, honey.”
“Nothing is going on between me and Quinn. I’m kind of into someone
else,” I said without thinking. “There’s this guy at the center—”
She dropped the tray of my perfectly sliced tomatoes.
“Mom,” I said plaintively. I gave the tomatoes a woeful look. “Those
took me a long time to do. And they were perfect.”
“Sorry, I just…who?”
 “His name is Jesse. Don’t drop the burgers,” I warned before she could
respond.
“I’m not, I just….” She laughed, still looking a little flummoxed. “You
have to bring him.”
“To family dinner? Er….”
“We’d love to have him. My goodness, I’ve been waiting for the day
you would get serious about someone. I’m just so happy, I could—”
“Cut a whole mess of tomatoes?” I blinked innocently. “That’s what I
do when I’m happy.”
“I said happy, not crazy.” A smile tugged at her mouth. “Now get to
work.”
“Yes ma’am,” I said with a sigh.
“If you’re good, I’ll get Grant in here to clean up this mess.”
“Really?” I was sure my eyes were shining like an anime character.
“Even the squashed bits that went under the grill?”
“Even those,” she promised. After a moment in companionable silence,
she shook her head. “I’m so excited to meet your friend, honey.”
Yeah, well. Now the hard part was getting him to come.
My mother didn’t seem to realize that she’d just tasked me with the
impossible. “This is such an exciting time in a person’s life. When you find
the right one.”
“The right one?” I arched a brow. “I don’t know about all that.”
“We never do.That’s why it hits us so hard. By the time you realize
you’re in free fall, it’s far too late to pull the rip cord.”
“So love is like leaping out of a plane with a defective parachute?” I
raised an eyebrow. “You kind of suck at this.”
She huffed. “It doesn’t matter if you have a parachute or not, AJ. That’s
the point. If it’s the right kind of love, you never hit the ground.”
That kind of love sounded, quite frankly, terrifying. And nothing that
should put that kind of tiny smile of remembrance on her face. I didn’t have
to ask who she was thinking of. There was a tinge of sadness mixed in that
smile, the kind that spoke of love lost, not love found.
Truthfully, I felt a little sorry for Glenn. No matter how much of herself
she chose to give to him, there would always be a little unreachable part.
Not because she didn’t want to give it to him. But because she couldn’t.
“Would you do it again?” I asked quietly.
 She nodded, her eyes glistening. “All of it. The good times and the bad
times. I’d even repeat those times when you kids were little and we were
trying to figure out our new roles in life.” She shook her head. “It’s amazing
how well you all turned out. At one point, you guys were really making me
regret…well, life in general.”
“Ma!”
She gave me a fond look, a little glimmer of mischief in her eyes. “My
point is that even when it was bad, it was still tinged with good. Because I
was doing it with the right person.”
I swallowed. “I hear you.”
“It’s worth it, AJ. Every time.”
We got back to work shortly after that. The silence was a
companionable one, as we were both lost in our own thoughts. I wasn’t sure
if her little pep talk had the intended effect. I was damned sure that I’d
never experienced a love like the one she’d described.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to.
As we pumped out several orders of chicken wings, Grant stomped in,
dramatic as fuck, and started cleaning up the tomatoes. That helped. I
exchanged a grin with my mother over his head.
“You missed a slice under the ice maker,” I said helpfully.
He glared. “Shut up, AJ.”
19
 ANDREW

L ate night at the center was kind of creepy. The building was usually
teeming with life and noise, kids running here and there, and counselors
chasing behind them. Jesse and I were the last ones in the building and it
was quiet and cold. And dark. Since Jesse was used to leaving late, he’d
turned off practically all the lights except the ones in the lobby and his
office. When I complained about it being creepy, he just grinned and called
me a big baby.
“How old are you again?” He’d teased.
“Not much younger than you,” I shot back. He loved to lord those ten
years over me. “Although you’d never know it from your fashion choices.”
He chuckled. “I don’t think someone who spends ninety percent of his
life in gear that has the word Outlaws on it has any room to complain.”
His humor had faded when he spotted the donated sports gear, courtesy
of several sponsors, stacked in the back room. He was upset when we didn’t
get a donation and he was upset when we did get a donation. I was starting
to think that Jesse just woke up in the morning thinking of problems.
I sat in his desk chair watching him pace, annoyance in every line of his
lithe body. As usual, he was dressed casually, his jeans and white t-shirt soft
and worn like most of his clothing. Maybe too worn. It was impossible not
to look at that ass in those jeans and not think about stripping them off Jesse
and fucking him silly. Or maybe, just maybe, I had a one-track mind when
Jesse was concerned. So sue me.
 I was kind of obsessed, to be honest. When he wasn’t with me, I wanted
to know why. Not in a creepy stalker way. More in a, if you’re going to the
market, maybe I need something there, too kind of way. Maybe we could
also hold hands. And steal a kiss in the produce section after I make an
immature joke about eggplants and peaches. Did I mention I’m a pervert at
heart? No? Must’ve slipped my mind.
Jesse was sticking to his guns, though. His resolve would’ve been
admirable if it wasn’t so bloody annoying. I guess he was doing the right
thing by keeping a little distance. Getting all wrapped up in each other
would just make things harder in the long run, especially if—no, when—we
stopped hooking up. And why did the thought of that make me want to clear
his desk with a sweep of my hand?
He'd kill me, of course. Dead, right there in the rubble of his neatly
organized bills and carefully color-coordinated folders. But damn. I do
enjoy some good drama when reaching uncomfortable conclusions. It all
boiled down to one thing.
I wanted us to be more and Jesse was determined that we be less.
Jesse absently played with his black rubber wristband as he paced,
which made me hum with satisfaction. I’d given him the wristband for a
couple of reasons. A, he’d worn the old one out by popping it when he was
worried. Newsflash, he worried a lot. B, I’d seen the quote and thought of
him immediately. Be the change you want to see in the world. Those
weren’t just words to him. He woke up every day and did that shit.
“Would you like your chair back?” I offered.
“I’m good,” he muttered, making another circuit around his tiny office.
“By the way, Molly wants to talk to you about a reporter from Daily
Steps. He called and left a message when you were in a meeting with
Joshua.”
“What did he want?”
“He wants to do a human-interest piece. It certainly can’t hurt to raise
the profile of the center.” When he didn’t say anything, I frowned. “He
wants an answer by this Friday.”
At that, he really started getting traction. If he didn’t stop building up
friction between his shoes and the carpet, his Converse were going to start
sparking. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t rather curious to see it happen. I
leaned forward, propping my elbows up on the desk so I’d have a better
view of his sneakers.
“Do we have a fire extinguisher?” I wanted to know.
“What?”
“Never mind.”
“Someone from the Wheaton Foundation made a large donation as
well,” he said, working his fingers under his wristband again. “Friend of
yours?”
Every time he paced behind me, I got a good whiff of his pine scent. I
wanted nothing more than to take a good sniff. Who was I kidding? I
wanted to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in like a drug.
It took me a second to focus. “Arnold—he’s a defensive lineman—and
his wife Janet created that foundation for their kid, Wheaton. They love
what you’re doing here.”
He popped his wristband some more. “I’m sure.”
There was a wealth of meaning behind his words. I pushed out of his
chair because he was making me fucking dizzy with all that blasted pacing.
I went around to the front of his desk and propped my butt up on the edge.
Folding my arms, I gave him the gimlet eye. “You want to tell me
what’s going on? If I’d tied Swiffer pads to your feet, the floor would be
sparkling clean by now.”
“Nothing is going on.”
“You sure? Because I’m just trying to understand why people donating
to the center makes you look like you ate a bag of lemons. Forgive me if
I’m wrong, but aren’t donations a good thing?”
“They are, yes. But it kind of sucks that they’re only interested because
you’re here. I’ve been working my ass off for years, trying to secure the
right kind of funding to keep us afloat. You’re here for a few months and
boom, suddenly I can’t keep up with the interest.” He stabbed his fingers
through his hair. “I know it sounds crazy…maybe even petty. The only
thing that matters is that we’re able to keep helping people who need it
most.”
“That’s not strange at all,” I said quietly. “Everyone here knows how
hard you work, Jesse.”
“But it’s not even that, you know? Not just that, anyway.” He sighed. “It
just seems so disingenuous. We’ve always needed a helping hand. Why
bother to get involved now? Because you want to curry the favor of a
celebrity? Rub arms with an NFL player?”
I shrugged because that was par for the course. “I get a lot of that.
Daily.” I winced as his frown deepened. I wasn’t doing a very good job of
cheering him up. “Comes with the territory.”
“Yeah, I guess it does.”
“What now?” I asked when he continued to look perturbed.
“I don’t like the matter-of-fact way that you said that. Like walking
through your day and waiting to be used is a normal occurrence.”
Well, it was. I knew better than to point it out. “You worried about me?”
My teasing made him flush. “Shut up.”
This time when he paced past me, I was ready for him. I encircled his
wrist and gently pulled him to a stop. He sent me a look so sheepish that I
had to laugh. I tugged and after token resistance, he allowed me to tow him
closer until he was standing between my legs.
When I let go, he automatically took a step back and I sighed. “You
have personal space issues.”
He rolled his eyes even as he stepped forward again exaggeratedly.
“Better?”
“No. You’re getting warmer, though.” I looped my arms around his
waist and closed the gap between us completely. I rested my hands on the
small of his stiffened back. “It’s like holding a hostile little puppet.”
“I’m not little, you behemoth.” He sounded amused as he loosely linked
his hands around my neck. “How’s that? Am I a real boy now?”
“You’re entirely too close to my balls for me to say anything but yes.”
He laughed as I looked at him hungrily. I wasn’t about to tell him, but
he’d thrown me for a loop. I’d never felt this all-consuming kind of…want
for someone before. It kept knocking me on my ass…like a blitz from a
heavy hitter when you were a few steps from the end zone.
I marveled a little at how far we’d come. When we first met, I’d thought
prickly Jesse was hot. But vulnerable Jesse? The one who trusted me
enough to see even his most trivial of worries? He was so beautiful to me
that it was hard to look away.
I struggled to refocus on something that didn’t involve getting Jesse
naked. “Look, the bottom line is that the center is getting help and
donations, and that means you can help more kids. Does it really matter
why they did it?”
“I guess not,” he said begrudgingly.
I chuckled. “You look like a sulky kid.”
“I’ve got a decade on you.”
“Yeah, so you’ve mentioned a time or six,” I said lazily. “I wonder why
you’re so determined to put distance between us?”
Because you want me as much as I want you. His resigned expression
said he knew the origin of my question—pure rhetoric.
I took a risk and reached out, cupping his jaw with my hand. He
watched me quietly, his eyes a little wary, but he didn’t move. That was as
good as a green light to me. He inhaled swiftly as I brushed my thumb
across his check.
“You ever gonna let me fuck you?”
Those green eyes flared as he took a step back, putting space between
us. I took a step forward, closing the distance again. “Andrew,” he said
warningly. “This isn’t the time or place—”
“We’re alone, aren’t we?” I slid my hand into his hair and gripped—not
too hard, just enough to tilt his head up to mine. If he wanted to pull away,
he could, and I wanted him to know that without words. “Even the
custodian left an hour ago.”
Hamish had stuck his head in Jesse’s office and warned him not to work
too hard before he shuffled off.
Jesse closed his eyes briefly and swallowed. When he opened them
again, there was something unreadable there that made me frown. “Not like
this,” he said, shaking loose.
For a few seconds, my heart dropped down to my toes. And then I got
it. I raised an eyebrow as he flushed. A little tenderness wasn’t a fucking
marriage proposal. But if he didn’t want soft and easy, then cool. Fast and
rough worked for me, too.
Without warning, I pushed him, sending him backward. I was mindful
of my own strength, yeah. But I wanted to wipe that arrogant little “I can
take you or leave you” look off his gorgeous face. He hit the wall with an
oof, his expression one of surprise. He blinked up at me for a few seconds
before his mouth curved, those eyes glittering with something I couldn’t
name.
 “Better?” I asked as I closed the distance between us, turned on beyond
belief.
“Much,” he said roughly, winding his hand around my neck.
He yanked my head down to his. I was hard-pressed not to whimper
when my mouth met his in a bruising kiss. Fuck, I loved kissing Jesse.
Could kiss him every day and not get enough. He tasted like sugar,
probably from the cookies someone had left in the breakroom, and it went
straight to my head.
I slid my hands down to that ass—that perfect, round ass—and
squeezed. I lifted him clear on his toes as he controlled the kiss, groaning
into his mouth. I wanted to touch and taste and fuck. But that would mean
putting him down and I sure as hell wasn’t doing that. Instead, I turned so
he was braced against the wall so I could rub against him. His mouth slid
off mine as he groaned, and I kissed my way down his neck—soft, barely-
there kisses.
He allowed it for a few moments before he pulled away. Right. Got it.
Maybe next time he could roll around on a cactus first and then let me fuck
him. Might be less prickly. I let him slide to the floor, but kept a hand on his
hip in case he had any bright ideas of getting far.
No worries there. He looked up at me, his gaze clouded over with lust,
about as close to pouting as I’d ever seen him. “Why?”
I laughed darkly as I attacked the button and zipper on his jeans.
“Because I only have two hands and these need to come off.”
They were tight but not painted on, so I was able to get them below his
hips…which was a good thing because I wasn’t above ripping them. I
stopped and stared at the skimpy blue number. Seemed like the scrap of
fabric was having trouble doing its primary function—containing that
luscious ass.
“Really?” I demanded.
He arched a brow, looking slightly smug. Probably because he knew
those skimpy things were made for melting brain cells. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t
aware I needed to run my underwear choices by you.”
Mouthy little shit. My mouth quirked as I looked my fill. I made a little
circle with my finger and he huffed but made the spin so I could see the full
picture.
 “Are you done ogling?” He asked when he turned around, his cheeks—
both sets—bright pink.
I didn’t apologize. That underwear was made for ogling. And since I
was the only one tapping that ass, then he’d worn them for me. I worked
them and his jeans down to his knees, and pulled him over to his desk, his
cock bobbing as he walked.
“What’re you—”
I pushed him flat to the desk and he let out an oof of surprise. A few
folders slid off and the contents spilled on the floor as he tried to lift up.
“You motherfu—”
I pushed him back down with a little chuckle. God forbid his precious
filing system get slightly messed up. I took his dick in my hand and started
to stroke. He bucked and muttered something like, too much, but I wasn’t
about to take it easy on him.
He reached back and grabbed my arm…but not like he wanted me to
stop. Almost like he was trying to anchor himself. He bucked in my fist as I
licked and sucked my way up his neck, behind his ear, and then right at the
juncture of his neck where he was so sensitive. He was flushed, looking
unbelievably aroused and maybe a little startled that I could find his secret
spots…which was so obliviously Jesse. Of course I paid attention to the
things that made him fly.
The sight of him spread out like that on his desk, boneless and ready to
be thoroughly debauched, that plump ass ready for the taking, pushed me
close to the edge. My hands were shaking as I fumbled in my pocket for
supplies. I tossed a condom next to his face, and he leaned up enough to
make short work of opening it. He half-turned, ready to roll it on me, but I
shook my head.
“Can’t,” I said as I pushed down my pants and my boxers to my knees.
“Can’t have you touch me right now.”
His mouth quirked. “You want me bad, huh?”
“Shut up, Fox,” I said, huffing out a laugh. When I pulled out the pillow
packet of lube, it was his turn to look amused. Even as I coated two fingers,
I demanded, “What?”
“You’re a manwhore, that’s what.”
“I carried them for you!”
“We haven’t done this before.”
 “A man isn’t allowed to hope?”
He laughed…until I was knuckles deep inside of him, working two
fingers as he gasped and groaned. He pressed his torso flat on the desk and
worked his feet apart even farther. I wished I had more time to explore and
drive him crazy on my fingers alone. But if I didn’t get inside him in the
next few seconds, it would be game over.
Jesse seemed to be of the same mind as he demanded, “Now.”
Not a problem. I lined myself up with that pink, glistening hole,
muttering to myself. “I just wish we had more lube. You’re really tight.”
Always the romantic, he demanded, “Just do it.”
I huffed out a laugh as I did as he requested. We both groaned as I
breached him, sinking into him slowly. I didn’t stop until I was balls deep,
and only then because I couldn’t go any farther. I worked a hand under his
shirt, rubbing his back—then thought better of it and pushed it up under his
armpits. I wanted to see everything, every single inch of his creamy skin.
He made something suspiciously close to a whimper as he struggled to
adjust around the intrusion. I gave him a few seconds and then tried a
shallow stroke that made him curse. I stilled immediately, beads of sweat
collecting at my temple as I waited, watching him for a signal. He hit the
desk with his fist. Not yet, then. I kissed a path down the back of his neck,
almost in a wordless apology. I wasn’t exactly small and I could tell he was
riding that razor’s edge of gimme more and dear God, that’s fucking
enough.
He finally sighed and worked his hips experimentally. “Oh.”
Fuck, I really liked that oh. That oh meant I could stop holding still and
reciting football stats in my head and start fucking. I snapped my hips
forward, sliding in and out slowly. Just enjoying the smooth glide and the
unbelievable heat that was Jesse’s ass. The sounds he made. The smell of
our combined arousal. It was all turning my crank, big-time. I pinched his
nipples as I fucked him, and he cursed and hit the desk again.
“You’re amazing, you know that?” I murmured.
A cup full of pens fell off the desk with a clatter and pens started rolling
everywhere. He didn’t even notice. “Fuck, that’s good.” Done with my
pace, he started slamming his hips back against me. “Harder. I need it
harder.”
 I could already feel myself losing control. I tried to hold back, to last at
least a couple dozen strokes, but it was a losing battle. I knew that. My dick
knew that. Jesse’s ass knew that. I started fucking him in earnest.
I reached around and took him in hand, jerking him off to the rhythm of
my thrusts. Finesse went out the window. So did any thoughts of being
quiet and careful, so I hoped Hamish had really left when he said he did. A
moment later, I didn’t give a fuck as I came, hard, a jumble of nonsense
tumbling from my lips. Jesse was close behind, crying out as his release
filled my hand and splattered his desk. I gripped his hips as he jerked and
gasped, grinding on my dick like a wild thing.
He finally stilled, slumped against the desk, his cheek pressed to his
desktop calendar. I couldn’t see his face, and that just wouldn’t do. I’d
earned that fucking orgasm. I wanted to see every moment played out on
his face. I slid my hand into his hair and gripped it, pulling his head back.
He was flushed, his eyes still bleary and unfocused.
He was so beautiful when he finally let go of his reservations, even if it
was only for a few seconds. He rested his head on my shoulder, blinking up
at me and looking adorably spent. Fuck, what I wouldn’t give for that armor
to stay off.
But it didn’t last long. He looked slightly embarrassed when he came
back to himself, as if even that little glimpse into what made Jesse…well,
Jesse was too much. Predictably, he pulled away, trying to put space
between us. His body wasn’t ready to come down from the high yet,
though. As he staggered, I grabbed him around the waist. Steadied him.
“My knees don’t seem to be working,” he muttered, and his adorable
factor went up a few notches.
“Give it a sec.”
“I wanna smell a cigarette,” he muttered.
“No.” I said, enjoying the weight of him against me for just a few more
seconds. “Also, you’re weird.”
“You’re the one who’s fucking me. What does that make you?”
“Scared.”
He laughed.
I wanted to take him in my arms and kiss him senseless. Hold him in
my arms and bury my face in his neck. I wasn’t sure if any of that was on
the table, though. He started pulling up his pants, and I knew the moment
was gone.
“What’re you doing on Sunday?” I asked casually as I tossed the
condom and righted my clothing.
“Not much. Why?”
“I thought we could have dinner.” As he nodded agreeably, I lowered
the boom. “At my mother’s house. With my brother’s family and her new
boyfriend.”
Those green eyes widened a tad. “Um—”
“It’s going to be a rough one,” I said, rubbing the back of my neck. “I’d
really like it if you were there.”
“AJ—”
“You can say no.”
“If I could say no, I wouldn’t have let you bend me over my desk,” he
said anxiously, surveying the files and pens on the floor. “Look at this mess.
I had a system, you know.”
I huffed out a laugh because his obsessive organizing skills should not
be so fucking cute. Man, I had it bad. “I’m sure.”
“So who’s the new guy?”
“My father’s best friend.” Maybe one day I’d be able to say those words
without grimacing. “He’s been in the family as long as I can remember.
Family vacations, holidays, graduations…the whole nine.”
His eyes bulged. “Holy fuck.”
“That…pretty much covers it in a nutshell.” I sighed. “So you’ll come?”
“Let me think about it, okay?”
I’d been around the block enough to know that meant no…which was
okay. And maybe if I told myself that enough, I’d actually start to believe it.
“Sure. I’ll text you the address and stuff just in case.”
I only stayed long enough to help him restore order to his office. By the
time we finished picking up all the files and papers, I was itching for some
Jesse-free time, just so I could get my thoughts in order. Despite my mood,
a smile tugged at my lips as I watched him refilling his pen cup neatly.
“I should go,” I said.
He paused, brow furrowed as he looked at me, a handful of pens still
clutched in his hand. “Okay,” he said slowly. “You’re still coming over to
my place?”
 Fuck, my mind was in such a scramble that I’d forgotten. “Rain check?”
My smile felt brittle and there wasn’t a damned thing I could do about it.
“I’ll see you later, okay?”
“Are you coming in tomorrow?” He persisted.
“Tomorrow isn’t Tuesday,” I said, which didn’t answer the question at
all.
“Like that’s ever stopped you.” He bit his lip. “Maybe we should talk
about—”
“It’s all good,” I said waving a hand. “No need to make things weird.
Just fun and casual, right?”
He didn’t say anything, just nodded. I could feel his gaze on my back as
I left. I even managed a casual wave. As I walked down the darkened
hallway, my mother’s bullshit description of love ran through my head—
tandem free fall with no rip cord. I’d told her then that it sounded terrifying.
Turned out there was something even scarier than falling in love.
A solo jump.
20
 JESSE

T he last time I’d gone to a family dinner, it had been for one of the
regulars at the center, Jodie Callahan. His mother had been so grateful
that I’d stayed late to help him with his science project that she insisted on
feeding me. I showed up, nervous and carrying a bottle of wine and some
flowers. The entire close-knit Callahan crew had been in attendance, from a
suspicious grandmother who kept making everyone uncomfortable with
comments about my sexuality, right down to the littlest Callahan who
wouldn’t stop climbing me like a jungle gym. I spent the entire time
watching the clock.
The arrival of the after-dinner tray of drinks signaled my escape. I
thanked the mother profusely as I swore coffee wasn’t my thing. In reality, I
drank so much of the stuff I was surprised I didn’t shit French Vanilla
creamer. Afterward, I told Joshua to spread the word that I should only be
thanked in cookie basket form.
So yeah, family dinners weren’t my thing. But come Saturday, some
imposter that looked a lot like me made a pecan pie, put on some slacks and
a nice button-down, and loaded up in the Plymouth to make a thirty-minute
drive to Buena Vista Shores.
The roads were busier than I expected on a Sunday. Guess the after-
church crowd were absolved, prayed up, and ready to hit a buffet.
You’ve lost the plot completely, I told myself grimly as I navigated
traffic. Meeting the family and having dinner was a boyfriend kind of thing.
Not a hookup thing. Not a Jesse kind of thing. And yet, I continued to let
my GPS lead the way.
I’d never been to Buena Vista Shores before, but it was clearly a posh
neighborhood. The farther I drove, the bigger and more spaced out the
houses became. I finally pulled up in front of a large, two-story, sprawling
farmhouse and slowed to a stop. I knew I was in the right place because I
could see Andrew’s truck. Several other cars were parked along the long
driveway, and I coasted to a stop next to the mailbox so I wouldn’t block
anyone in. Then I just sat there. Thinking.
I didn’t know what I was afraid of, exactly. Maybe it was just that I’d
been systematically taught that I wasn’t good enough. That I couldn’t
measure up. And there were plenty of people along the way who didn’t
hesitate to add a suitcase or two to my baggage. My mother. My
grandfather. The johns. Trace….
When his grandmother had passed, it was devastating for the both of us.
She’d been the only family member of his that had known about me. He
hadn’t introduced us—never that. She’d stopped by his place unexpectedly,
saw us together, and drew her own conclusions. When he denied it, she
rolled her eyes and sat next to me on the couch.
“You’re a pretty little thing,” she said, brushing my hair out of my eyes.
I huffed out a laugh because for this five-foot nothin’ woman to call me
little was nothing short of hilarious. But I guess everyone was little next to
her son.
“What’s your name?” She wanted to know.
“Jesse.”
“Pretty name for a pretty man.” She patted my thigh. “Now let’s give
you a look under the hood. What do you do, sugar?”
“I work at a non-profit for kids.”
She nodded, a little smile playing on her wrinkled mouth. “You enjoy
it?”
“Of course,” I said simply. “It’s rewarding.”
“You have any family?”
I shook my head no, my throat a little too tight to speak. She reminded
me of my grandmother—sweet, soft-spoken, and nosy as the day is long. She
was one hell of a baker and always made her oatmeal cookies with golden
raisins and cranberries. And when my father complained that he hated
raisins, she just patted his cheek and said, “That’s what Jesse likes.” She’d
sided with my mother when she kicked me out. I wasn’t sure if I missed her
or hated her because I missed her.
As usual, I’d said more by saying nothing at all. Trace’s grandmother
patted my knee. “Well, now you do.”
Trace bit his lip as he sat on the coffee table in front of her. She’d had a
hand in raising him so that her daughter could finish medical school and he
credited her with so much of the man he’d turned out to be. “Grammy G,
you can’t—”
“I ain’t tellin’ no one, boy. You’ll do that when you’re ready. And I hope
it’s before Jesse wises up and buys himself a mirror.” She peered at me and
then back at Trace. “Are his eyes that green or am I making that up? I left
my glasses in the car.”
Trace huffed out a laugh as my cheeks went up in flames. “Your eyes
don’t fool you.”
“Good.” She patted my knee and then started ordering us around. “You,
go get me a plate of whatever smells so good.”
“I made chicken and rice,” I said.
“My favorite. And you,” she said pointing at Trace. “Get me a drink.”
“I only have scotch,” he said begrudgingly.
“My favorite,” she said with a sigh.
She checked in on me often…even invited me over for dinner a few
times. She always told me not to be too patient with her grandson. I’d
thought that was odd advice from someone who loved him so much, but she
just patted me on the cheek and said she loved me, too.
When she died, there was no way I was missing that funeral, even
though Trace said evasively that I didn’t have to come. I was annoyed when
the day came and he still hadn’t sent me the address and time, but I found it
online. Then I put on a Hugo Boss suit I’d spent way too much on and made
the two-hour trip—his grandmother had been very specific about where she
wanted to be buried and who she wanted to conduct the service. Trace
looked positively ashen when he saw me. But I just slipped into the back
row of the full church.
He ignored me the entire time. Not even another look after that initial
glance. And at the gravesite, I went up to shake his hand and he murmured
that I should go home. It was only after a gorgeous blond woman in a short
black dress and skyscraper heels came over and slipped her arm in his that I
got the picture.
She looked at me curiously. “I thought I’d met all of Trace’s friends.
Don’t hold it against me if we’ve met before, but who are you?”
“No one,” I said, my gaze dropping to the fat rock on her finger. “No
one at all.”
Fuckin’ Trace King. It wasn’t fair to put all my insecurities on his
shoulders because he certainly hadn’t been the first to shake my confidence.
But he’d been the last, which made his voice the loudest. I wasn’t about to
let him keep talking.
I turned off the car, got out, and headed up the walk.
The wide sprawling porch had lots of seating and an honest-to-goodness
porch swing. A cat was curled up on one of the cushions but darted off as I
approached. I pushed the doorbell and waited as I heard someone yell, “I
got it.”
“No, I got it!” Another little voice countered.
The sound of scuffling ensued and then the door finally opened. I found
myself face to face with two little boys who both had big brown eyes and a
mop of curly hair that clearly couldn’t decide if it wanted to be blond or
brown. The human bookends looked sweet as sugar.
They were probably demons, I determined quickly, especially seeing
how their Sunday finest was already ripped and torn.
“Hi,” they said simultaneously.
“Hi,” I said cautiously.
“Make sure you ask who it is first,” someone shouted from farther in the
house.
“Oh!” The one on the left covered his mouth as the one on the right
slammed the door in my face. “Who is it?”
“Jesse,” I said, chuckling. “Jesse Fox.”
They reopened the door again even though my name couldn’t possibly
mean anything to either of them. One of them skipped off repeating fox, fox,
fox for no reason I could discern, while the other urchin grabbed my hand.
“I’m Liam. Come on in, we’re about to set the table.”
Who lets you near breakable dishes?
I let him tow me into the house. I closed and locked the door behind me.
“Do you like brussels sprouts?” He asked.
 “Sometimes.”
“I think they’re gross.”
“Good to know.”
“How ’bout squash?”
I shrugged. “Squash is alright.”
“That’s gross, too,” he said, frowning at me. As a new friend, I wasn’t
working out too well. “What about—”
“Can you go get your Uncle AJ for me?” I asked before we could go
down the list of all vegetables and rank them from gross to grossest.
Liam shrugged and skipped off, clearly unconcerned that he could’ve let
in a serial killer about to ply his trade. I heard a rumble of voices farther in
the house, which I hoped meant he’d done as I asked.
The McAdams family home wasn’t what I expected. Even though I
didn’t move from the welcome mat, I looked my fill at the living room that
managed to be both elegant and homey. No designer had gotten their mitts
on this place. The overstuffed couches were cream and adorned with cream
and teal pillows that matched the cozy-looking rug, and nautical accents
were just about everywhere you looked. All the picture windows made the
room bright and airy and welcoming.
Despite my resolve to stay put, I drifted over to the mantel full of
pictures in white driftwood frames. A lot of them seemed to feature
Andrew’s father, which was to be expected. I picked up a picture of him on
a boat, smiling, one arm around each of his grinning boys. The pictures told
a story of a life well-lived. Well-loved. And really, could we ask for much
more than that?
“That was when he took us to Key West.” I turned at the voice behind
me to find Andrew standing there, his gaze trained on the picture. “Grant
swears he caught the most fish, but we both know it was me.”
I put the picture back down, carefully nudging it exactly how it had
been. “Sorry.”
“What are you sorry about?”
He looked fancier than usual in gray slacks and a snug charcoal button-
down, a big-faced watch at his wrist. His ash brown hair was tamed with
product, and he smelled rather delicious. I wasn’t sure what the scent was,
but it was expensive and subtle, and he’d used it just right…just enough to
tantalize, not enough to make you wish you’d brought portable oxygen.
 “Huh?” I asked stupidly.
“What are you doing here?” He asked, those honey eyes intent on mine.
I fought the urge to fidget. We both knew how big of a deal this was. “I
was in the neighborhood,” I said. “Thought I’d drop by.”
“That so?”
He moved closer, looping his thumbs through my belt loops and tugging
me closer until we were just about touching. He pressed his forehead
against mine and breathed me in. Guess that answered the question of if he
was glad to see me.
“You know you’re playing with fire, right?” He murmured.
Was his mother’s couch off-limits for fucking? Probably. “How so?”
“The more of you I have, the more I want.”
No one had ever looked at me that way. Not in all the years I’d been on
this Earth. None of the men I’d dated and hoped could be something more. I
swallowed. Turns out it was worth the wait. “Trust me when I say the
feeling is entirely mutual.”
He kissed me then, devouring my mouth like he had an absolute right to
do so. I wasn’t about to tell him differently. Even when he broke the kiss, I
didn’t pull away. Instead, I closed even that tiny gap between us and slid my
hands behind his neck, playing with the hair there that had grown over his
collar. It had gotten long, longer than usual, probably because he wasn’t on
the field. I knew he’d be giving it the old chop soon, and I planned to enjoy
it until then.
“Do you like sweet potatoes?” Someone wanted to know.
Andrew closed his eyes briefly, looking resigned and amused. “Liam, I
thought you were going to help set the table.”
“I did.” He puffed up importantly, carrying a silver napkin holder for
some reason. Guess the table was missing a few pieces. “Mom said dinner
is ready.”
“Pie!” I exclaimed as the little urchin slipped his hand in mine. I wasn’t
sure why it was wet and now that we’d already touched, I didn’t need to
know. “I forgot the pecan pie in the car—”
“I’ll get it,” Andrew said, holding his hand out for my keys. “I’m not
letting you anywhere near a car now that you’re here.”
I huffed a laugh. “I came here voluntarily.”
“Mmhmm.”
 “I expect to be able to leave the same way.”
“Yeah, we’ll see,” he said with a grin. I shook my head bemusedly and
put my keys in his palm. He dropped a kiss on my mouth and headed out
the door. “Be right back. Liam, take ’im to the kitchen.”
“Come on,” Liam said, tugging at my hand.
We didn’t get far. A small woman in cream slacks and a pink blouse
grabbed me in a hug in the doorway of the farmhouse kitchen. She had on
enough expensive jewelry to need a security detail. “You!”
“Me,” I agreed.
“Oh God, where are my manners? It’s so nice to finally meet you, dear.”
She beamed. “I’m Libby.”
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said with a smile. “Jesse.”
“I already know who you are. We were hoping you’d come.” She
glanced down at Liam and ruffled his hair. “You take that right back in the
kitchen, young man.”
Liam skipped down the hall—I wasn’t sure he knew any other way to
travel—and Libby grabbed my hand. “Andrew went out to grab the pie I
made—”
“How lovely! You didn’t have to bring anything.” It was clear from
Libby’s tone that she didn’t mind in the least. “Your pie will have a spot of
honor on the dessert table.”
Dessert table? I perked up a bit. Finally, someone was speaking my
language.
A guy ambled down the hallway and I didn’t need an introduction to
know he was Grant—he looked like a slightly smaller, shorter version of his
brother.
“Hey,” he said, giving me a greeting that involved a lot of backslapping.
“You’re the guy that gave AJ the rabbit, yeah?”
“Yeah. Moon Pie.”
“Good to finally meet you,” he said, and I squinted because there was a
lot of this finally business going on. “God knows he won’t shut up about
you. Every time I talk to him, it’s all Jesse this and Jesse that. We’re all sick
of you, you know.”
“Don’t tease,” his mother said, her mouth twitching with a grin. “Even
though it’s true.”
 My face was approaching peak levels of tomato. “I’m sure it’s not that
bad,” I said loyally. Not to mention I was sure Andrew would lock his
brother in a closet if he could hear him now.
“Oh, trust me, it is.”
Another woman hustled down the hall, almost as tall as Grant was and
thin, her dark hair pulled up in a bun designed to be messy. She was
wearing a frilly white blouse and a knee-length pencil skirt, a gold lavalier
necklace at her neck and gold studs in her ears. She had a glass half-filled
with red liquid in her hand.
Grant bumped her with his shoulder. “This is him.”
“Hi Jesse,” she blurted.
“Hi,” I said slowly.
“Oh.” Grant snapped his fingers. “An introduction would probably help.
This is my wife, Kim.”
She beamed at me, her dark eyes practically dancing with delight. “I
had to see you with my own eyes.”
I decided not to ask why they were treating me like Bigfoot. If I had to
guess, it was probably because someone who shall remain unnamed said
some shit about us that shouldn’t be said.
“Let the boy have some room to breathe,” Libby admonished. “I want
you to meet everyone else.”
“Everyone else?” I croaked.
I glanced back at the front door a little desperately. Guess Andrew was
right to confiscate my keys.

She introduced me to everyone so quickly that if I hadn’t already known

their names, I would’ve forgotten them all immediately. There were a
couple of aunts, an uncle, and a passel of cousins that Andrew had not
indicated would be there. There was also his mother’s date, the
uncomfortable-looking Glenn. Everyone’s laughter was a little too hearty
and the silent stretches a little too long, but they were trying.
I put a hand on Andrew’s thigh under the table when Glenn started
going on about a trip he and Libby had taken, and found it hard with
tension. The story was probably ill-advised—apparently, the place he’d
taken her had been a favorite of Lucas’s—but sometimes once you’re in the
middle of a story, you just have to go with that shit.
Even with the Glenn-related tension, I could certainly think of worse
ways to spend a Sunday. The food was delicious and the atmosphere was
warm. I could tell that everyone at the table cared about each other. I
couldn’t help but wish this was real and I was meeting my boyfriend’s
family. I sighed wistfully as Grant and his wife teased one another. I knew
Andrew adored them, but I wasn’t sure if he really understood how lucky he
truly was.
“Jesse, dear?” I blinked at Libby, only to find her attention zeroed in on
me. “If you don’t like the meatloaf, I can make you something else.”
I looked down at my plate to realize I was mashing the meatloaf
absently. I went pink. Good God, what was wrong with me? “No, it’s
wonderful,” I said hurriedly and proceeded to stuff some in my mouth as
Andrew snickered.
I gave him a kick under the table, and he grunted.
“I’ve been monopolizing the conversation,” she said with a clap of her
hands. “I’d love to know more about you.”
I hoped she was talking about someone else, but no, she was still
looking at me, her brown eyes friendly but determined. I was “dating” her
son, and she was going to have some answers. Fuck.
I kept chewing around meatloaf mountain, probably looking like a
chipmunk worried for winter. When I finally swallowed, I said, “There’s
not much to know.”
“Well, are you from Florida originally?”
“No, I moved here from Chicago.”
“Such a lovely city,” she gushed. “We went there a few times to see the
Bears play.”
“To see me play,” Andrew corrected with a growl. “They were just an
unpleasant by-product.”
“No, she had it right the first time,” Glenn teased and then looked like
he wanted to crawl in a hole. I had a feeling this tentative dynamic between
them all was new.
But then Andrew laughed, and Glenn looked surprised and pleased. So
did Libby. I nudged Andrew’s leg under the table because he was trying and
I was proud of him, and he gave me a crooked little smile.
“So, what brought you to Florida?” Libby’s focus was resolute and her
meter was pinging all things Jesse.
Chicago winters are hell on homeless kids. The idea of endless sunshine
sounded pretty damn good when I was shivering under a box.
“It seemed like a nice place to live,” I said.
“AJ told us all about your work at the center. I think what you do is
wonderful,” she said with a warm smile, and I squirmed in my chair,
uncomfortable with the praise. “You’ll have to let us know if there’s any
way we can help. We can donate meals and put up some of your signage in
our restaurants—”
“Yeah, that would be great. Thank you.” I tucked into my mashed
potatoes, hoping the inquisition was over, but it wasn’t to be.
“So. How long have you two been seeing one another?” Glenn asked.
I sighed.

I’d been in the bathroom way too long. I knew that. But downstairs there
was family and fun and Liam had mentioned Jenga Giant, and no one had
shot him down. I knew how to turn things on when I had to, but I eventually
needed to recharge my batteries. Quietly. And maybe smell a cigarette.
I heard a quiet knock on the door and stuffed it back in my pocket.
“Occupied,” I said. “I’ll be out in a sec.”
Even as I washed my hands, I grumbled to myself that there had to be
more than one bathroom in this sprawling mini mansion masquerading as a
farmhouse. I opened the door a few seconds later, not bothering to hit the
light switch, and came face to face with Andrew.
I blinked. “What’re you—”
He pushed past me into the small space and shut the door behind us.
“Shh,” he said with a grin. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. And
not making a break for it out the bathroom window.”
“It was too small,” I admitted. “And it drops right into a bed of thorny
rose bushes.”
 “Kim just put on some coffee,” he said, slipping his arms around my
waist and pulling me closer. I went willingly, even as I gave him a
suspicious look. “An hour, tops, and we’re out of here.”
“There’s no rush.”
“Really?” He asked skeptically. “Because when my mother started
asking about your family, you looked like a bear contemplating gnawing his
own foot out of a trap.”
“Okay, I didn’t love Twenty Questions, the Jesse edition,” I admitted.
“But your family is lovely. They’re good people.”
“The best,” he said simply. “We’re still leaving though. I’m thinkin’ I
want to get you alone.”
Oh, I knew that look. I gave him a warning look in return. “You’re not
fucking me in your mother’s bathroom.”
“I’m not?”
“You’re not,” I confirmed. “I want her to like me.”
“Why?”
“You know why.”
“Spell it out for me.”
I decided to use actions instead. I reached up and pulled him down for a
kiss, a long one, and poured everything I was feeling into it. There was
relief and frustration and arousal and fondness in there, all rolled up into
one. By the time I pulled away, we were both breathing a little unsteadily.
“How’d I do?” I asked, my voice rough.
His gaze was unfocused, his pupils huge as he stared at my mouth.
“Well, if the goal was to make my knees lock, then great job.”
“Those old creaky things?” I raised a brow, trying not to smile. “Pretty
sure they lock up on their own.”
He narrowed his gaze. “That’s not a very smart tone to take with
someone who’s about to have your cock in his mouth.”
Have my cock in his…even as my pulse skyrocketed into the danger
zone, I knew I had to stop him. He sank to his knees and I couldn’t manage
a word. Not even when he unzipped my pants, revealing the red underwear
I’d worn that made him suck in a breath.
“We shouldn’t,” I finally managed.
“It’s happening, Fox,” he growled. “Get on board.”
 “What about your knee?” I asked a little anxiously. “This floor is kind
of hard. Should you—”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said as those nimble fingers pulled me out of
my underwear and I did absolutely nothing to stop him. He looked up at me
with a wicked grin. “It’s not like I’ll be down here all that long.”
So it was like that? I hid my amusement because he was a snarky little
shit, and I was good at teaching snarky little shits a thing or two. “Open up,
McAdams. Time for us to put that smart mouth to better use.”
21
 ANDREW

T he day I got my SCRAM bracelet taken off was a glorious one. I

scratched my ankle for a good two minutes. The strip of skin there was
fish-belly white against my tan, making it look like it was still on. I
rewarded myself with a nice swim in the pool…well, it was less of a
leisurely swim and more like twenty-five laps. Either way, my muscles
burned pleasantly after I was done. I ended my session by floating on my
back, looking up at the sky.
When I started feeling a little crispy, I stopped floating. I went under to
dunk my head with cool water and stayed there for a few seconds before I
started drifting down. Down, down, down. When I reached the bottom of
the pool, I sat down, cross-legged. I looked up at a world gone watery and
distorted. The sky was still beautiful and blue.
I wondered if Jesse was finished working on his grant proposal. I'd
promised not to call or bother him until he was done. Apparently, I was a
distraction. You kiss someone's neck one freaking time while he's
calculating the budget, and suddenly you’re persona non-grata.
Maybe a quick text about what he wanted for dinner wasn't verboten.
Too bad he didn’t have a grill. A nicely charred steak sounded pretty good
right about now. I had a grill and steaks, too, but he didn’t seem interested
in coming to my house. I’d made the suggestion several times and he’d
turned me down each time.
I tried not to take that shit personally.
 The last time I’d mentioned it had been my first night back from an
advertising gig. Jesse’s house had been my first stop, and he’d attacked me
before I even got the front door closed, wrapping himself around me like a
monkey. I rolled with it, dropping my bag and picking him up. I carried him
to the bathroom, wondering why something in my chest eased the moment
he was in my arms.
If I closed my eyes, I could still see him on his knees on the hard tile of
the shower, his hands gripping my thighs. I’d asked him to come home with
me. My house was closer to the Outlaws’ facility and I needed to be there
early the next morning.
“Spend the night with me.”
He shook his head slowly. “Let’s just let this thing be what it is.”
He looked up at me through those sinfully long lashes, right before he
took my cock down to the root and buried his nose in my pubes. He worked
his throat around me until I had to pull back, fast. Either that or shoot down
his throat within a minute and die of embarrassment.
“Fuck.” His tongue flicked out, licking the dripping head bobbing in
front of his face. “You always taste so fucking good. I could go down on you
every fucking day.”
Three minutes. I tracked a bubble as it escaped my mouth and drifted to
the surface.
We were having a good time together and I wasn’t about to rock the
boat. Being with Jesse was easy. He was still a little wary of opening up, so
I did most of the talking. More than I’d ever done in my life. Jesse would
listen to me with a little smile on his face, usually touching me in some
way. A hand in my hair. His fingers on my arm, tracing my tattoo. I wasn’t
sure he was aware he was even doing it at this point. He was tactile as could
be, as if he’d been starved for affection and was soaking it up like a sponge.
I planned to give him all the affection he could handle.
I pushed myself a little further because that’s what conditioning was all
about—finding your boundaries and pushing past them. My lungs started
complaining louder, so I got up and swam for the surface. Pushing past
boundaries didn’t include drowning, I was pretty sure.
I came up with an almighty splash, sucking in air like I’d breathed my
last. The burn felt good. Great, even. I raked my hair back from my face,
water streaming down my neck and shoulders.
 “Even if you drown, I still get my ten percent.”
I blinked water out of my eyes to find Ari standing there, looking way
too crisp and put together for ninety-plus degree weather. His button-down
and slacks were still crisp like they were fresh from a dry cleaner’s bag. He
had on blue suspenders and a chunky, expensive-looking watch glittered at
his wrist. As usual, his phone was attached to his hand—surgically, I’m
pretty sure.
“Cute.” I swam over to the edge slowly and rested my arms on the side.
“To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“It was my only recourse, seeing how you don’t seem to be able to
operate email or answer phones.”
“Must’ve missed your call.”
“Mmhmm. You have an interview with Sports Weekly, and don’t
complain,” he added without looking up from his phone. “They wanted
Diesel but I suggested you would be better. I really played up a possible
return to the field.”
“Great. I adore being the second choice.”
“Third.” His mouth twitched. “First we lamented for a while that Blue
was retired.”
I flicked him with water and he gasped, moving those Gucci loafers
faster than I’d ever seen him move. He hoofed it over to the seating area
and put a lounger with blue and white striped cushions between us.
He glared at me before examining his precious shoes. “Uncalled for.”
“Get closer and I’ll apologize.”
“And participate in my own dunking? No thanks.”
Well, now he’d gone and ruined the surprise. “Nothing but love for you,
Ari.”
He sniffed, straightening the rolls of his already perfectly rolled cuffs.
“Have you given any thought to who you’re going to bring to family day? I
have passes for the usual suspects—your mother, Grant, and his family.
Anyone else?”
“Just one or two.”
“That was completely rhetorical, McAdams.” He frowned because he
liked corrections just about as much as he liked surprises—not at all.
“Who’d I miss?”
“Just a couple of kids from the center.”
 And maybe a recalcitrant coordinator if I can convince him to come.
I wasn’t sure why it was so important that Jesse showed up. I just
wanted to show him something about me. And I wanted him to meet some
guys on the team—Everett, Diesel, and Craig. Bottom line? I wanted to get
all the special people in my life in the same place at the same time.
Football, family, and Jesse. It was so simple it was kind of scary.
My flushed face didn’t escape Ari’s notice. He raised both his
eyebrows. “Seriously?”
“Seriously what?” I levered myself out of the pool, sloshing water
everywhere and he backed up a few more feet, just in case. I grabbed a
towel from one of the lounge chairs and rubbed it over my face.
“Seriously who is more like it.” He eyed me suspiciously. “And you’d
better not say Brooks.”
I snorted. “Put that on the things that aren’t happening ever again list.”
“Well, it’d better not be Kyle.”
“Kyle?” I draped my towel over my neck and dropped onto a deck
chair. “I never dated a Kyle.”
“Short. Blue hair. Eyebrow piercing?” He sighed as I continued to peer
up at him, confused. “The bartender.”
“Oh. Lyle.”
“Kyle.”
“They say the memory is the first thing to go, Ari. His name is Lyle,” I
said with an authority I didn’t feel. “And he’s not a bartender, he’s a fitness
model.”
“His name is Kyle, fuckboy. And he’s a fitness model because I hooked
him up with some of my contacts so he’d go away.”
I stared, a little stunned. “You did what?”
“You can stop looking at me like that. I did you a fucking favor.” He
didn’t look sorry in the least. “He’s not the kind of guy you need in your
life.”
“Shouldn’t that be up to me?”
“Shouldn’t you be dating someone who wouldn’t dump you for five
thousand bucks and a contact with Reel Athletes?” As I stared at him in
silence, processing his overbearing but well-meaning ways, he widened his
eyes. “You can’t possibly be mad. You didn’t even remember his name!”
 “His name is….” Okay, shit, Ari was probably right about that, but
damn. “I don’t like you doing stuff like that without my say-so.”
“Fine, fine.” He held up his hands. “You want me to call him back? I’m
sure he’d be up for another payoff after a quick ride on your dick.”
“Ari.”
“Sorry. I’m sure it wasn’t that quick,” he said cheekily. “Look. If I
overstepped, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to protect you. At the end of the day,
we do what you want. You still got a thing for Kyle?”
I made a face. He was so far in the past, I’d need a DeLorean to reach
him. “Fuck no.”
“Then what are we even talking about here?” His tone was exasperated.
“Who’s the mystery man, AJ? And don’t say no one because I can see it on
your face.”
“He’s just a friend,” I murmured.
“Interesting. Because I didn’t see any clearance forms on my desk. No
NDA. No background check. Nada.”
“That’s because I didn’t want to tell you yet. You ruin everything,” I
informed him because he needed to know that shit.
“I’m looking out for you. Give me his name.”
“I don’t want you running any background checks on him,” I growled.
“Everything I know about Jesse, I want to hear from Jesse.”
Ari raised his brows. “Jesse Fox? The guy at the community center?”
Well, fuck. Obviously my post-NFL plans shouldn’t include being a spy.
I’d spill the beans even as they were setting up a tray with torture
implements.
“Don’t bother him,” I warned. “He’s…important to me.”
“I get it.”
“I’m serious.”
He held up his hands. “Sure. I guess that’s one way to get your
volunteer hours approved.”
“Don’t talk about him that way,” I practically growled.
“Just for clarity’s sake, I was talking about you that way, but….” He
looked at me for a few seconds, head cocked to the side. “You really like
this guy, don’t you?”
I didn’t bother to confirm. The fact that I’d been ready to throw my
agent in the pool for even a hint of Jesse slander spoke volumes. He shook
his head in wonder. “Never thought I’d see the day. All of those thots—”
“The fuck is a thot—”
“Your taste has certainly improved,” he said, ignoring me thoroughly.
“He seems like a solid guy. People certainly speak highly of him. Then
again, what do you really know about someone until you do a deep dive
into their past?”
I sent him a warning look because I knew where he was going with that.
“No.”
“What?” He asked innocently.
“Just…no. I want my relationship to unfold organically.”
“Like an overpriced tomato?”
I sighed. “It’s hard to believe I’m paying you for this abuse.”
“Hey, I’m on your side. I just hope you know what you’re doing.”
“I absolutely don’t, thanks.”
He chuckled. “I have something that might cheer you up from the
cesspool that is love.
How would you like to become an avatar on Madden?”
“You fuckin’ serious?”
“Would I fuck with you like that?”
“Yes,” I said with absolutely zero hesitation.
He grinned. “Well, this time I’m on the level. Zoe from EA Sports is
sending over the team for some head scans. Are you free on Tuesday?”
“For EA Sports?” I snorted. “Of course I’m…oh, shit, on second
thought, I’m not. I have to be at the center.”
He stared. “Surely they can spare you one day.”
“I’m sure they could, but Harper has a game and I want to practice with
him. I finally convinced him to give up football, despite his dad and his
uncle’s displeasure. Seeing me play soccer had the desired effect and he
realized that some people are just better at different things.”
“Who the hell is Harper?”
“One of the… never mind, you’d have to be there. In fact, you should
come to the field day we’re planning next month and I can show you
around. Jess is so nervous and it’s adorable.”
“I’m sure.”
I smiled just thinking about how crazy he’d been about swag for the
event. “He bought all these ribbons and trophies and medals that the kids
are going to go bonkers over….” I took in Ari’s stunned expression and
cleared my throat. “So yeah, anyway, I’m busy.”
“This is EA Sports, McAdams. You’re turning down a chance to…
for….” He shook his head as if to clear it. A moment later, he rebounded
with his typical unflappable nature. “Okay, I’ll try to reschedule with Zoe
for Thursday. Unless you’re busy running a seminar on macramé or some
shit?”
“That’s a negative on the macramé,” I said with a glare. “Just fucking
set it up, Ari, and stop busting my balls.”
“But they’re so bustable,” he murmured, pecking out a note on his
phone. “I also need you for a meet and greet with a fan. Perry Kidmore.
You inspired him to come out last year. He thought he had to choose
between being the star of his lacrosse team or being himself and then
thought fuck it, maybe I can have both, too.”
“That’s fucking amazing,” I said with a smile.
What was even more amazing was that his story wasn’t the first I’d
heard. I was pretty sure my stuttered conversation with management wasn’t
the glorious take me or leave me speech these kids pictured. I was sure they
thought I’d grabbed a handful of rainbow glitter and threw it in my coach’s
face…which, let’s be real, would’ve been fucking fantastic.
Still. If I’d done anything that inspired them to live a more open,
accepted life, then hell yes, I was willing to pretend I was the hero they
thought I was. If nothing else, it was nice being carried around on people’s
shoulders. Walking was overrated.
“I set up a meet and greet at the facility on Tuesday.” Even before I
opened my mouth, he sighed at whatever expression I was giving him. “Let
me guess. You’re busy at the community center.”
“Sorry.”
“Your volunteer hours are over.”
“I know that. I’ll make it work on Wednesday,” I offered.
He stared at me for a few moments, his expression unreadable. “You
said you just liked this guy. I didn’t know you were in this deep.”
“I’m not.” I wasn’t sure which of us I was trying to convince, but I did a
shit job either way.
“Dammit, McAdams, now is not the time for this shit.”
 “It seemed to be the right time for this shit when Blue did it,” I said
sulkily. “I don’t remember him clearing his love life with you before he
announced he was dating Kelly on national television.”
“Why don’t you ask Blue Montgomery if it went fine? Why don’t you
ask him about the shitstorm of media he had to endure, or the endorsement
deals he lost?”
“He just signed another deal with Nike,” I said dryly.
Undeterred by little things like facts and logic, he went on. “Well,
you’re not a GOAT, are you? Blue can get away with all kinds of things you
can’t. And he damn sure was never stupid enough or careless enough to get
a DUI.”
I gritted my teeth because following a legend was about as much fun as
it sounded. A legend that was still alive and kicking was worse. I couldn’t
even roust the team with a let’s do it for Blue speech because he was still
alive and shit.
I mean, I’m glad he’s still alive. Obviously. I’m just saying.
“I’m not going to hide my bisexuality,” I said carefully.
“I’m not asking you to,” Ari said. “I'm trying to portray you in the best
light here. I'm not the enemy. You’d best remember that.”
I knew that. There were several reasons I switched to his agency, and
the first was that he was the best there was. The second was that he’d turned
Blue Montgomery’s disaster into PR gold. When you’re about to make
waves, you’d better find a seaworthy fucking boat. In the world of PR, Ari
Parker was a goddamned frigate.
“The scuttlebutt behind closed doors is that Texas is having some
trouble passing his drug tests. That could mean you’re getting off the IR list
soon.”
“I’ve heard that shit, too.” I felt guilty benefitting from someone else’s
problem, but it wasn’t like I’d forced him to do drugs. That’s if it was even
true. “People say a lot of things.”
“What if it’s not just a rumor? There’s going to be a lot of media in your
face and in your business. I’m not saying that you’re not talented, but we
both know that’s not the reason why they’re all over you and everything
you do. For better or worse.”
“They’re so fucking annoying,” I muttered. “I fail to see the for better
part of the media digging through my trash.”
 “Do you think the amount of social media followers you have is normal
for someone who’s been benched for half a season?” He raised an eyebrow.
“’Cause I can tell you right now that your morning smoothies aren’t that
interesting.”
I scowled because I posted other shit, too. My posts featuring Moon Pie
were even more popular than my workout videos. I wasn’t sure if that was a
compliment to the fabulous Miss Moon Pie or an insult to my pecs. “What’s
your point?”
“You’ve done something that not many players have done before—at
least not successfully. You’re playing in the NFL as an out and proud man,
and that means your life will forevermore be tabloid gossip fodder.”
“Yeah, well. Maybe I don’t care.”
“Yeah, maybe you don’t,” he said with a shrug. “But what about Jesse?”
Jesse? I pictured him being thrown to the wolves that masqueraded as
media.
Some people liked to keep their cards close to their chests. Jesse liked to
glance at his cards, memorize them, then burn them to a crisp, just so no
one else could sneak a peek. He’d balked at doing a TikTok video for crying
out loud, and that was only going to be posted on some kid’s account. I tried
to imagine him green-lighting a photo of us on my Instagram for over a
million followers to criticize, and drew an absolute blank.
Holy shit. I tried again, but the image wouldn’t materialize. I couldn’t
even picture it in my dreams. I was so screwed. Judging from Ari’s
unusually sympathetic gaze, he knew that as well.
“You let me worry about Jesse,” I finally muttered.
And worry I would.
22
 ANDREW

“A J! What’s up, brother?”

“What up, Fish?” I stepped back to let Fisher Lewis, one of our
defensive tackles, out of the cafeteria before I went in. He was out on
injured reserve but still managed to beat me to breakfast every damn day.
And lunch.
“You’re just the man I was looking for.”
I widened my eyes. “Should I be worried?”
“Probably,” he said bluntly. “I just left Coach Warner’s office and he
told me to send you his way if I see you. So I’d get on that if I was you. He
seemed kind of pissed.”
Wonderful.
He clapped a hand on my back as he kept walking, unaware that he’d
just detonated a bomb of unease in my stomach. A summons to Coach’s
office was never a good thing. I thought longingly of my omelet, chicken
sausage patty, and acai yogurt bowl breakfast, waiting for me just beyond
those double doors.
Maybe I could get away with pretending I didn’t get the message. That
sounded like a good option for about two seconds, until I remembered
Coach didn’t mind an audience. I could get my ass chewed in private or he
could do it on the field with my teammates nearby, pretending not to listen.
For a bunch of grown men, they gossiped like old Southern women on a
shaded porch.
My shoulders slumped and I turned and headed down the hall.
 I found him at his desk, phone cradled between his shoulder and cheek.
He was in workout gear, his customary Ray-Bans pushed up over his short
hair. He looked a little redder than usual, probably from the unrelenting
summer sun. He had a ball cap, but he wouldn’t keep the damned thing on.
He seemed to prefer throwing it at intervals in sheer frustration.
“Yeah. No, I’ll do that,” he said, waving at me to sit.
I sat gingerly, wondering what this impromptu meeting was about. I’d
met all the terms of my plea bargain, and the DUI was all but history. The
team doctor seemed satisfied with my last checkup, and Reggie was
impressed with my work in PT. So what was it? Surely Ari would’ve heard
if I was getting traded…or cut.
“I understand that,” he said. “Yeah, he’s here right now. Okay, I’ll see
you in a few.”
He hung up and leaned back in his chair, giving me his undivided
attention. “McAdams.”
I wanted to mark that attention return to sender and punt it in a UPS
truck. “Coach. You wanted to speak to me?”
“That I did. Texas popped positive on his last drug test.” He interlocked
his fingers and rested them on his stomach. “Again.”
“I wasn’t aware—”
“Yeah, not many people are. His team works overtime to make it stay
that way. Apparently, the third time’s not the charm as far as the boys
upstairs are concerned. Barnes wants him out.”
“Okay,” I said slowly.
“I need you on the roster,” he said. “You’re dressing out next game.”
I blinked at him, uncomprehending. I’d been hoping, yeah. I’d been
working my ass off to make it happen. But to actually get my spot back was
a bit of a mindfuck.
I didn’t want to undo all of Reggie’s progress, though. She was humble
enough to give me the credit for my recovery. But we both knew I wouldn’t
have healed as well as I did without her guidance. I wasn’t setting one cleat
on the field until she cleared me.
“What does PT say?”
Coach looked annoyed that I was saying anything other than yes sir, yes
sir, three bags full, sir. “Barbie says you’re good to go.”
That’s PT Barbie to you. “Really?”
 “Check the report yourself.” He tossed a file across the desk where it
landed with a plop.
I rifled through the paperwork, skimming words that meant very little to
me. The one that mattered was stamped all over my file. Cleared. A phrase
at the end of the doctor’s medical release for return caught my eye. A.
McAdams has met the above criteria…safe return to full athletic
activity...without restriction.
“It’s not that confusing,” Coach said mildly. “Are you good or should I
send you for a neuro consult?”
“I’m good,” I gritted out as I tucked the file under my arm. I wanted to
read it carefully without Coach glaring holes through me.
“I want you to be squeaky fucking clean, you understand? I want people
to say your name with the same reverence they use for saints and heroes.
From now on, you’re a firefighter racing out of a burning building with a
baby in his arms and a puppy zipped up in his coat. You got me?” I bobbed
my head, but he wasn’t quite finished. “One more fucking DUI and I swear
to God—”
“No sir.” I didn’t want him to even finish that threat.
He grunted and I could tell that I’d capitulated too soon for his tastes. It
was rather hard to keep attacking your prey when he bares his neck and
pleads for mercy.
“Are we done?” I wiped my sweaty palms on my shorts. “I want to get
an early start in the weight room.”
At his nod, I popped out of the chair like a jack-in-the-box. I could feel
his eyes on my back as I skedaddled. I didn’t go far. I stood outside of the
weight room, trying to process my new reality. All the confusing feelings
I’d been dealing with during my recovery collided and melded into
something simple. Happiness. I was going to get on the field again, and my
jersey number was going on the active roster.
Holy fuck. I had to share the news.
I bit my lip as I stared at my phone. There was only one person I wanted
to tell. That only solidified what I already knew. I wanted Jesse in my life.
Permanently. I just wasn’t sure he felt the same way. I didn’t want to scare
him off or push too hard, but fuck, I was tired of overthinking things when
it came to him. So I just called, no subterfuge necessary.
 He answered in a way that was…well, so very Jesse. “What do you
know about jigsaws?”
“Puzzle or creepy serial killer?”
“I was thinking more along the lines of the actual saw,” he said,
amused. “You weirdo.”
“About as much as I knew about that nail gun. What the hell are you
doing?”
“I’m building an activity center for Shortcake.”
“She already has a hutch.”
“That would be an extremely astute observation if I was building a
hutch,” he informed me. “This is an activity center. You know, for rabbit
enrichment.”
I paused to let the insanity of that sink in for a moment, picturing an
American Ninja Warrior-type course…but for rodents. I blinked away
images of Jesse encouraging Shortcake to beat that wall as she stared at him
unblinkingly. “I’m not sure I know where to go with that.”
“Be nice and I’ll let Moon Pie use it, too,” he said.
I was too intrigued to say no. My rabbit was going to fucking crush that
course. “I’m not sure what the protocol is for dealing with someone who’s
lost his mind in its entirety. Any advice?”
“Is there something I can help you with?” He demanded. “I’ve got a
rabbit to appease.”
“Yes, I just got news and I wanted to share with someone sane…but
you’ll do. I got cleared to play.”
He sucked in a breath. “That’s fucking amazing!” When I didn’t
respond to his enthusiasm, he paused. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“You don’t sound all that jazzed about it.”
“It’s hard to know how I feel right now,” I said, automatically moving to
the side as I heard the door open at the end of the hall.
Buck, one of the trainers, came down the hall, closely followed by our
halfback, Xavier, who’d been sidelined last week. We exchanged nods as X
continued to mount his case for not needing a brace. I shook my head as
they disappeared around the corner. Whatever they paid the trainers to deal
with us was not enough.
 A buzzing noise on Jesse’s end made me jump. “Don’t use that saw.
You don’t know how.”
“I was just seeing if the battery was charged,” he said with a huff. “Now
back to you. Tell me how you’re feeling.”
I didn’t point out that he didn’t need to know if the battery was charged
if he wasn’t going to use it. I hoped he knew how to give a good hand job
with four fingers.
“I’m glad to play, of course. But what if I get injured again? Next time
could be even worse. What if I’ve lost my mojo completely, and I can’t
perform like I used to? What if—”
“You stop looking for trouble and just enjoy the fruits of your labor?”
The gentle tone of his voice took the sting out of his words, and I was able
to appreciate the sentiment for the sound advice it was. “This is what you
worked hard for. We can’t control every variable on the field. You never
could. If you didn’t want to play again, you wouldn’t have been
conditioning so fucking hard.”
“I would’ve still rehabbed my knee.”
“Not by doing seven miles a day on a HydroWorx,” he said
exasperatedly because I knew that and he knew I knew that. “Now it’s time
for all that hard work to pay off.”
“I’m not sure I’m where I need to be.”
“Well, the team doctor is. Your physical therapist is. You trust Reggie,
don’t you?”
“Of course.”
“And Blue. You said you’d never trained harder or gotten better
results.”
I was briefly taken aback that he listened to me and remembered all the
shit that came out of my mouth. “I will never admit it to him, but yeah. Best
fucking trainer I’ve ever had.”
“And your coach may be a gruff bastard, but you know he loves to win.
He wouldn’t put you in if he didn’t think you were the guy for the job.” He
paused to let all of that sink in. “So. Do the job.”
I chuckled inwardly. He really shouldn’t be able to shore me up like this
so easily. It was embarrassing. “Then I guess I’m going to do the job.”
“Well, thank fuck for that. I’ve got money on this game, Allstate.” I
could hear the smile in his voice. “You should celebrate.”
 “I’m planning on it.” But maybe not in the way he seemed to be
indicating. There was only one type of celebration I was interested in and
only one person I wanted to share it with. “I’m going to be out of here in a
couple of hours or so. You should come over. I can pick up some dinner and
we can make a night of it.”
“Come over.” He paused. “To your place?”
I didn’t know which I liked less, his pause or the cautious tone. “No, to
my treehouse. Wear sneakers, the ladder gets pretty slippery.”
“No need to get snippy.”
“Oh, was I snippy? I wasn’t aware. You acting like I have the bubonic
plague is really giving me the warm and fuzzies.”
“I just…I don’t know if it’s a good idea.”
“Why wouldn’t it be?”
He hesitated. “You know why.”
And just like that my good mood disappeared. Of course I remembered
what he’d said about ending things once I started playing again. I’d hoped
that he forgot that little detail. Or changed his mind. Was he really willing
to walk away from our connection just like that?
Maybe the connection was more one-sided than I thought.
“What exactly is your deal?”
“There’s no deal,” he said cautiously. “I just want us both to remember
what this is. Was.”
I hadn’t minded that bullshit deal…in the beginning. But that was
before. Before we’d talked well into the night, emboldened by the dark.
Before I’d shown up with lunch and we’d had an impromptu picnic in the
parking lot. Before I’d fallen asleep with him wrapped in my arms, limbs
entangled so much that it was hard to tell where I ended and he began.
I felt cooked to stick a fork in me doneness. “You know what? You’re
right.”
He sighed. “Don’t be mad at me.”
“I’m not.”
Lie. And we both fucking knew it. It was okay that he was scared. It
was okay that he was cautious about acknowledging whatever had
developed between us when we both weren’t looking. It wasn’t okay for me
to do all the pushing and him to do all the pulling away.
“AJ—”
 “No big deal, right?” I forced an even and breezy tone. “We’ll do it
another time, okay?”
I hung up and headed to the workout room.
He didn’t call back.

Blue didn’t comment on my mood as we trained. Instead, he ran me through

drills like he didn’t care about my life. Then he put my ass up on the
treadmill, ‘cause that’s what you do when you’re a fucking sadist with a
whistle. Maybe he had issues of his own to contend with. He kept checking
his phone, which was unusual. When it came to training, Blue’s focus was a
scary thing.
As if to buttress my thought, he reached over and pushed a few buttons
on my machine. My incline changed to something a mountain goat would
love. Instead of bitching as I usually did, I just adjusted my stride. The burn
felt good. Great, even.
“Everything okay?” Blue had clearly expected some complaining.
“You’re running like you can physically outpace your troubles.”
“I didn’t know therapy was included in my workouts.”
“Your workout sesh is whatever I say it is.”
“Sesh?” I used my shoulder to wipe sweat out of my eyes and sent him
a look of dismay. “Don’t be that guy.”
He chuckled. “You’re sure there’s nothing I can help you with?”
Let’s see. You could’ve been just a skosh less talented. That way, our
fans won’t string me up by my thumbs if we don’t make it to the playoffs.
Two years without a championship had made the public testy. That was
before the injury that sidelined me for three games last season and half of
this one. They were probably stocking up on rope already.
“Nope,” I finally said.
I could feel his gaze on the side of my face as I ran. “How’re things at
the center?”
“How is dislodging your nose from my business?”
He opened his mouth again—probably to continue his quest as nosiest
Nelly—and his phone vibrated. He frowned as he scrolled and I wondered
yet again what was so distracting to him today. I wasn’t sure I cared. It
couldn’t be that hard being Blue Montgomery. Being ridiculously attractive,
rich, and married to your soul mate must be a real horror.
I winced. That wasn’t entirely fair though, was it? He’d had some hard
decisions to make to get his happily-ever-after and it hadn’t been easy. I had
first-hand knowledge of everything he’d gone through in the locker room.
The GM may be having a stroke session about how fair he’d been, but there
was a lot of shit that had gone on that we didn’t talk about.
Social media had been particularly brutal. For every supporter he had,
there was one that was ready to drag him, watch him stand up, kick the back
of his knees, and drag his ass again. He’d handled all of the pressure and
negativity with his usual Blue affability, so steady and likable that even the
assholes had to question their own behavior. It was a hell of a time to admit
how much I liked and admired him.
What an annoying fucker.
When he checked his phone yet again, I scowled. “What’s up with you
and the texting shit today? You gonna tell me or should I just beat it out of
you?”
He raised an eyebrow and drawled, “You know, I think I’d really love to
see that.”
“I could do it,” I said confidently, even as he waved me off, and I was
able to get a glimpse at the pic on his phone. “Who’re the kids?”
“None of your business.”
“You know what? You’re right. I am being too nosy. I should let it go.” I
pretended to think for a moment and then I picked my phone up out of the
treadmill cup holder. “Or maybe I should just go straight to the source and
ask Kelly.”
Blue snatched my phone before I even got the screen open. Fuck, I’d
forgotten how fast that fucker could move. “You’ll do no such thing.”
I gaped at him. “The fuck is wrong with you?”
He looked a little flushed as he gripped my phone. I just bought that
thing. If he cracked the screen, I was going to crack his skull. “Nothing,” he
finally said.
“I was just messing with you. I’m not going to ask Kelly shit. Now
gimme back my fucking phone.” As he continued to stare suspiciously at
me, I wriggled my fingers. “Now would be good.”
 He slowly handed it back to me, and I treated him to a cool stare. The
thing I’d had with Kelly might’ve been casual, but I liked him. And even
I’d rather have my toenails yanked out than admit it, I loved their love. It
gave me hope. I would hate to fuck up Blue’s pretty face because he took
away that hope.
“If you’re doing some double life bullshit with some chick and her kids,
you need to cut it out now,” I said seriously.
“What?” His head jerked back as he stared at me. “Are you crazy?”
“If you’re not fucking their mom, then who are those kids?”
“No one. Jesus fuck, you’re more annoying than usual today.” I stared at
him until he blew out a breath. “Okay, this goes no further than us, yeah?”
“Okay,” I said slowly.
He pulled up the picture with a few taps on his phone and turned the
screen around. I blinked at the little boy and girl clad in mismatched
swimwear, cheesing at the camera on the beach. They both had dark hair,
big blue eyes, and missing front teeth. Twins, if I had to guess. They were
cute if you liked that kind of thing.
I didn’t. They looked like grubby fingerprints and spills on my glass
coffee table and toys all over my pristine, dove gray carpet.
“Well?” He asked earnestly, as I looked at him, mute. “What do you
think?”
“I think I already have a rabbit I don’t want.”
He scowled, snatching back his phone. “Not for you, idiot. And who the
hell trusted you to take care of something living?”
“For your information, Moon Pie is very happy. And Jesse has complete
confidence in my….” My eyes widened as I refocused on the important part
of what he’d said. “Wait, you and Kelly are thinking about adopting?”
“Well, yeah. I guess.”
“You guess?” My eyes got even bigger. “Isn’t that something you
should…know?”
He raked a hand through his blond hair, looking a little frazzled. “I
mean, I mentioned it before and he didn’t say no. Of course, he didn’t say
yes, either. Back then, I didn’t have these two in mind. I saw them on this
adoption website and…I don’t know. It’s not like I’ve even met them.”
“But you want them.”
 “I follow their updates on the website now and again.” From the
sheepish look on his face, I’d say it was a lot more than now and again.
“Well, anyway, I saw them and I just knew…they belong to us.”
“What did Kelly say?”
“I didn’t mention it.”
I nodded as if that made perfect sense. “Ah. You’re just going to bring
them home like groceries, then. Here are the apples, eggs, Cheetos, and oh
yeah, two kids.”
He huffed. “Of course I’m going to talk to him about it, I just….”
“What?”
He looked down at the picture for a few seconds, and there was
something in his eyes that was hard to describe. I usually only got friendly
rivalry Blue when he was trying to motivate me. Or cold Blue when he
wanted to try to kick my ass—emphasis on try. But this…there was
something warm and gentle in his gaze. It was the kind of look he usually
only directed at Kelly.
“I want them to be part of our family,” he said. “And I don’t want him
to say no. Because if he does, then that’s it.”
I got it. If Kelly said no, then the kids in the picture just became
strangers again and not part of his future. “Talk to him,” I suggested gently.
“I will,” he finally said. “And I think we’re about done in here. You can
do a couple of laps in your pool, but no more pushing your knee tonight.”
I checked my watch with a raised eyebrow. “Not that I’m complaining,
but we’ve still got about an hour. Where’s the fire?”
“Kelly might be getting off early today and I want to make him dinner.”
“You don’t cook,” I said suspiciously.
“I cook just fine,” he shot back. “I’ve mastered three of his favorite
dishes, fuck you very much.”
They were truly disgusting. And being this close to their settled-down
bliss was giving me hives. I squinted at him. “Domesticity isn’t contagious,
is it?”
He smacked my shoulder and sent me a wicked grin. “Tag. You’re it.”
My eyes widened comically as he walked away. Or at least, it would’ve
been comical if he hadn’t given me the gotta get married and have babies
as cute as corn cooties. “You come back here and reverse the hex!” I
demanded.
 He only laughed.

I was walking in the door when my phone vibrated with a text. I kicked off
my sneakers and headed to the kitchen in socks. I grabbed a sports drink
from the fridge and checked my phone as I drank. Jesse. He’d texted one
word.
Where?
I took great pleasure in ignoring him. My life was already complicated
enough without dealing with Jesse’s bullshit. I wasn’t that whipped and he
wasn’t that hot of a fuck.
I thought of him down on his knees, looking up at me with those
cautious green eyes, his messy hair even messier in my grip. He never
minded when I used it to control his mouth. Loved it, even. That time he’d
put his hands behind his back, telling me without words that I could fuck
his mouth however I wanted, I shot down his throat before I even realized
what was happening.
Ok, I was whipped, he was the hottest thing I’d ever seen, our sex was
amazing, and I was pretty sure I was in love with him.
So yeah. But I had no intention of packing my luggage for my flight to
You’re Fucked-istan tonight. So he could just take his “where” and shove it
up his ass. His perfect, lickable, fuckable ass.
A text winged in that I checked while I took a swig of my Powerade. I
promptly sprayed my counter with purple liquid as I saw his hand wrapped
around his cock. I stared at the picture for a moment, a little stunned
because it was so unlike the uber-private Jesse…and because I couldn’t
remember how to function.
I texted him before he changed his mind. Lakeland Park. Now.
23
 JESSE

I barely made it two feet in the door before Andrew pushed me up against
the wall. “So this is where you live—” was all I managed before his
mouth slanted over mine. He kissed me again and again, not giving me any
slack or time to breathe. His intensity was intoxicating. Made my head spin.
And that was before he added his tongue to the mix.
At some point, his hands slid to my ass and lifted me practically off my
feet. I had to work hard not to wrap my legs around his waist so we didn’t
give anyone a show. The property was pretty private though and surrounded
by trees, but still. That didn’t stop us from rubbing against each other a little
frantically.
He finally broke the kiss and took a deep breath. He kissed me on the
nose, which was sweet. His hands still gripped my ass, which was not. I
wasn’t sure which I liked better. “Hi.”
“We’re a little past hi,” I managed. “I’ve never sexted anyone before,
but if this is the result, maybe I should put it on rotation.”
“You’re not sexting anyone else,” he growled.
Fine by me. “Why did you stop again?”
“I don’t want a quick fuck in the doorway,” he said, kissing a path down
my neck. “I want you in my bed. And I want to take my time.”
Only a fool would argue with that. He took a step back. Then another,
like he needed the distance between us. I liked each step he took a little less.
He scrubbed his hands through his hair. “I guess I should’ve shown you
around before I mauled you in my foyer.”
 My eyes widened. I hoped he wasn’t thinking of giving me a tour of this
place. Not before I got fucked anyway. “Do you have a golf cart or a
Segway or something?”
“It’s not that big.”
“Actually, it is. What happened to that I’m a simple man with simple
tastes bullshit?”
“Still true.”
“You own a lake.”
“I don’t own the lake.” His ears looked a little pink. “I mean, I do keep
it stocked with fish, but everyone around here can use it and my dock—”
“You have a dock?”
He looked ready to defend himself further, and I saw the moment he
realized I was just giving him a hard time. He huffed out a laugh. “You’re
such a bastard.”
“I do try. Now. Where do we stand on the fucking?”
“The host in me says I should show you around and offer you a drink.”
He looked conflicted and it was adorable. “The horny bastard in me wants
to bend you over my couch.”
You gotta love a man with a good fucking plan.
“I’ll make you a deal.” I offered him my hand and he accepted.
“Whatever we see on the way to my bedroom is the tour. Anything else will
just have to wait.”
He bobbed his head eagerly as he started walking deeper into the house,
towing me behind him. I saw a sprawling white kitchen, a living room with
a comfy-looking couch and a ginormous TV, and a lovely staircase. That
was about it before he led me—speed walked me—into his darkened room.
The ridiculously large bed was unmade, the navy-blue sheets and comforter
mussed like he’d just rolled out of bed that morning. A pair of boxers and a
towel were on the floor, marking a path to the bathroom.
I suddenly understood his urge to examine every inch of my place, and I
didn’t bother to hide my curiosity. I loved the little lived-in touches on the
nightstand like the half-empty water bottles and spare change. He had so
many chargers hanging out of the top drawer that it looked like a USB
octopus.
The space was nice but not fussy. And comfortable. There was a
loveseat and a matching overstuffed chair in the corner near the windows…
if you could even call them that. The wall was mostly glass, revealing a
spectacular view. I drifted over to the bank of windows to get a better look
and didn’t stop until my nose touched the glass. I stared at the tall trees and
pitch-black lake, glittering like a black diamond, only lit by the watchful
eye of the moon.
“It’s so beautiful,” I said quietly.
When he didn’t respond, I looked at his reflection. I was almost taken
aback. That amber-colored gaze was almost wolf-like in its intensity and
completely focused…on me.
“Do you know how long I’ve been dreaming about you in my bed?” At
his words, I blinked. It couldn’t possibly be longer than I’d wanted to be
there. “Clothes off, Jesse.”
“The windows don’t have curtains.”
“There are curtains,” he said. “But we’re not going to pull them. It’s too
dark to see in.”
Then the horny bastard pushed his pants down and off, and there was no
more time to refute his logic. I swallowed as his dick bobbed free, hard and
thick and, let’s face it, so very rideable. He gave it a few slow strokes. My
tongue got jealous. If he wanted to fuck me on the fifty-yard line, I only
hoped I’d be able to manage a token objection for my reputation’s sake
before I hiked up my knees and pointed my toes for the sky.
“The neighbors—”
“Do you see any neighbors?”
“No,” I admitted. “I don’t see gravity, either, but I know it exists.”
His laugh was mostly air. “Okay, you’ve got me there. But we’re
separated by a lot of land and trees and a nice tall fence.”
“Still….”
“Anything you want to keep, I’d have off by the time I get naked,” he
said conversationally as he reached for his shirt. “Clothes off, Jesse. I don’t
like repeating myself.”
His voice and that uncompromising tone made me shiver. I knew he was
about as gentle as a teddy bear with a heart to match. But that voice
combined with our size difference alluded to something different. That
voice said it didn’t matter what I wanted because I was going to get fucked.
From the gleam in his eye, it was clear he knew exactly what his words did
to me.
 Then I realized he was pulling his shirt over his head and I was still
fully dressed. He raised an eyebrow as he advanced on me, and I yelped.
These were my favorite jeans and I didn’t plan on them being ripped
asunder by those big paws he called hands. I practically beat the sound
barrier getting them off, much to his amusement. By the time he reached
me, all that was left was my shirt. So I stripped it off and threw it in his
smug face.
My laughter faded as he pushed me up against the glass. When he
dipped his head to kiss me again, I jerked my head away. Kissing was all
nice and good, but he’d already ramped me up too far. I needed something
more.
When I reached for him, he circled my wrists with one hand, pushed
them up above my head…and held them there. I met his gaze, his warm,
teasing gaze. I made a sound of frustration because he might as well have
written a sign. I wasn’t going anywhere until he said so. He kissed me
again, slower this time. But two could play that game.
The next time he dipped that tongue in my mouth leisurely, I sucked on
it, hard. He bucked against me with a helpless little groan, and I took
control of the kiss and fucked his mouth with my tongue. By the time he
pulled back, his breathing was a little unsteady.
He laughed breathlessly at my little smile of victory, even though he
didn’t let go of my wrists. Instead, he started torturing my nipples—licking
and nibbling and playing with them. I started to reconsider my previous
bold claims that they weren’t that sensitive.
“Andrew,” I finally said a little desperately. “I need—”
“I know what you need,” was all he said before he let go of my hands
and sank to his knees. My straining, weeping cock was at the perfect level
for him to take in his mouth…which he did not do.
He flicked out his tongue, tasting me, teasing me one little lick at a time.
I sank my hands in his hair, trying to force him where I wanted. He
wouldn’t give me more than tongue flicks, and sneaky little sucks that only
lasted a few seconds.
I growled as those amber eyes danced up at me. “Something funny?”
“That you’re practically about to scalp me?” He said with a little grin. “I
love your enthusiasm, but my follicles think you’re a dick.”
 “Are you going to make me beg—” was all I managed before he sucked
me into his mouth. Then it was all gasping and groaning and a few “oh my
Gods” thrown in the mix.
I moved a few times experimentally, testing if he was done with the
torture and we could get on to the throat fucking. At his slight nod, I sighed
with relief and fisted his hair. I stroked into that hot, wet cavern until I
nudged his throat, letting out a litany of curses at the perfection that was his
mouth.
My thighs tensed as my thrusting became a little frantic. Just as the train
was about to pull out of the station, his hand locked around my balls—not
hard enough to hurt, but enough to ease things back.
He pulled back, letting me go with a slick pop. He shook his head at my
whine, chuckling when I let him know he was a sadist. I forgave him
immediately when he turned me around and applied that miraculous tongue
to my sensitive hole. He was thorough, relentless, licking and tasting and
driving me out of my mind. When he stiffened his tongue and dipped it
inside, I spasmed around the intrusion and moaned.
“I’m not going to survive it,” I mumbled, my face pressed against the
cold glass.
“I have faith in you.”
“Just make up a good lie for me,” I begged as he fucked my hole with
that clever, persistent tongue. “Don’t tell…ahh…my loved ones that I…oh
fuck…died during a killer rim job.”
He laughed and slapped my ass. “Get your ass on the bed, Fox. You’re
not the only one whose control is being tested right about now.”
He had a lot of nerve, I thought grumpily even as I climbed on his
oversized bed, pushing covers out of the way. His control? He’d nearly
blown and rimmed me into a fucking coma.
I fell back into a downy cloud and did a starfish in the middle,
marveling. “This mattress wasn’t made by mere mortals.”
“It’s a Kluft.”
“Is that German for shitload of money?”
“You take a hit from a three-hundred-pound linebacker and then tell me
what you’re willing to sleep on.” He raised a brow, daring me to disagree.
“When I finally walk through that door, comfort has been elevated from a
want to a fucking must.”
 “Princess and the pea logic,” I said, much to his amusement. “How
perfectly expected.”
He joined me up on the bed, climbing between my legs and pushing
them up and apart. Well, I guess that answered the question of who was
bottoming.
I didn’t mind. I shivered a little as I eyed his cock, aimed like a missile
at my hole. I really didn’t mind. It made me curious though, enough that I
blurted out, “Do you ever bottom?”
“What?” He leaned over me and yanked open the nightstand drawer. “I
know I have it in here somewhere.”
“I wanted to know if you ever bottom. It’s not a deal breaker, I just—”
“Fuck yeah, I do. But every time I get near your ass, I want inside,” he
said crossly. “It’s annoying really.”
I laughed. “Sorry. My ass and I will try to be less alluring.”
“You can start by throwing away those jeans, and don’t give me that
face like you don’t know which fucking jeans I’m talking about,” he
muttered. “The ones with the rips on the thigh…ah-ha!”
He pulled out a bottle of lube and tossed it on the bed. He rifled through
the drawer some more, ignoring the flotsam and jetsam that fell on the floor,
as I examined the near-empty bottle. Horny bastard.
“This is all but empty,” I accused with a little grin.
He didn’t look repentant at all. “You want me to beat off to my Jesse
fantasies lube-less? What kind of animal do you take me for?”
“Some questions don’t have good answers, McAdams.”
“Fuck. There are too many steps to getting inside you,” he grumbled,
tossing a couple condoms on the bed. “You ever think about going bare?”
As I blinked at him in surprise, he ripped open one of the condom
packets with his teeth. I was so surprised I didn’t even fight him to do the
honors. I still didn’t have an answer by the time he rolled it on and added a
couple of swipes of lube.
“I get bloodwork done all the time so if you want to get tested….” He
faltered at my expression. “Well, it’s just a thought.”
“Yeah,” I said a little too quickly. “Of course.”
I rested my feet on his thighs as he prepped me carefully—way more
than I needed, even to take his considerable girth. I didn’t hurry him. There
would never be a day when I complained about those thick fingers in my
ass. Before long, he was working me open with his cock, and I was gripping
his arms and revising my opinion. I did need the prep and thank God he’d
been conscientious.
“Fuck that’s good,” he groaned as he bottomed out.
There was no need to repeat the obvious. It was like I could feel him
everywhere. “Fuck me,” I managed, my voice sounding strange and slurred.
His eyes gleamed as he braced himself above me. “As usual, your ideas
are on point.”
He worked me over. No other term for it. And in the end, I met him
thrust for thrust to the point where I wasn’t sure who was fucking whom.
God, he’s going to be insufferable when I come, I thought grouchily. I could
already tell that my eyes were going to roll back and I was going to make
weird noises and shit. There was nothing I could do about it. I already felt
the orgasm building clear down to my toes.
I gripped his arm and muttered that I was close. In his world, that meant
“lift my thighs over your forearms and start nailing my prostate with every
thrust.” At least he didn’t try that come for me now business. I came when I
damn well pleased, and certainly not on command.
He buried his face in my neck, his mouth open against my overheated
skin. “Jesse. Baby.” His voice was just a husky rasp as he shuttled his hand
over my dick. “I need you to come first. Fuck, I wanna see you lose it.”
And that was all it took.
That motherfucker. My back bowed as I came all over my stomach. He
wasn’t far behind, groaning as if he was gut-shot as he pounded into me
relentlessly. I thought back to his stupid request of going bare and I was
glad he’d asked me before instead of during because yes, I absolutely
wanted to feel him shooting inside of me. Wanted to feel it leaking out of
my ass and dripping down my thighs.
He slowed. Stopped. Relaxed with one last shiver. And transformed,
right before my very eyes, into a weighted blanket that restricted my
breathing.
I didn’t ask him to move, and he didn’t offer. Instead, I rubbed a hand
down the sweaty musculature of his back, wishing he could stay inside me
forever. I didn’t want to think. Or process. Or label anything that just
happened. I just wanted to feel.
 I only let go of him long enough to dispose of the condom before I
pulled him back down. He came willingly enough, but I could tell he was
concerned he was too heavy. Inwardly amused, I waited for him to make his
move.
He lasted longer than I thought he would—a good five minutes and
some change—before he flipped us so I was on top. At my chuckle, he said
defensively, “This just makes more sense.”
“I was using you like a human blankie.”
“Yeah, well. I’d rather not smother you to death.”
“That’s comforting, especially from someone I’m about to sleep next
to.”
“On top of,” he corrected with a yawn. “And you’d better be here in the
morning, Fox.”
I decided not to tell him that I didn’t have much of a choice. My poor
Plymouth cut off right in his driveway. I hoped he didn’t need to use that
sweet Lexus in the driveway—I’d blocked it in pretty good.
I smiled, causing him to look at me suspiciously. “You can count on it.”
24
 ANDREW

I woke up alone.
I knew that without even opening my eyes, but I checked anyway. I
peered around the room blearily before fumbling for my phone on the
nightstand. I turned it a bit until the screen lit up. 4:30 a.m.
I scrubbed a hand down my face as I flopped back down on the pillow. I
wondered what time Jesse had gotten up, but I didn’t need to wonder why
he’d felt the urge to scram. Things had gotten deep as shit last night, and
being vulnerable might as well be his kryptonite.
I got out of bed and headed for the bathroom but halfway there,
something caught my eye. I stumbled to a stop, staring at the shirt and jeans
that were folded neatly on the upholstered bench. I certainly hadn’t done it
—I was more of a “clothes wherever they land” kind of guy. So either Jesse
had been so freaked out that he’d run out of here without clothes or….
“Hey, you’re up.”
I blinked at the Jesse apparition in my doorway for a few seconds before
a smile tugged at my lips, and not just because I was glad he was still here.
He’d filched a pair of my boxers, and they were way too large. They were
baggy enough on him to look like your grandpa’s knee-length, “day at the
beach but can’t show too much leg” culottes.
“I thought you’d left.”
He shuffled his feet, looking a little hesitant. “Did…you want me to?”
“Of course not,” I said loudly. Too loudly, judging by how his eyes
widened. I tried to dial back the unhinged vibe just a bit. “I was hoping we
could have breakfast together. I was aiming for after the sun came up, but
this is good, too.”
He smiled. “Sorry, I needed to get a head start. I have a meeting at nine
and God knows how long it’s going to take them to get the Plymouth towed
out of your driveway. You live in the boonies, you know.”
“It’s ten minutes from the highway, Fox,” I said, scratching my
stomach. “And when are you getting rid of that thing?”
“You want me to drive a dependable car? How pedestrian of you.” He
sent me a grin. “Do you like pancakes? Eggs? I could probably whip
something up.”
“Excuse me, but I’m making breakfast. That’s part of my master plan to
get you to let me fuck you again.”
Oh, and to make you love me forever. He didn’t need to know that part
just yet.
“That so?”
“Indeed.”
“Fair warning, I’m not going to take much convincing,” he said, his
cheeks a little pink.
Fuck yes. I was about to say forget the pancakes when my stomach let
out a god-awful rumble. “Man,” I said, my shoulders slumping as I gave it a
poke. “Way to ruin the mood.”
He laughed. “You’re a bottomless pit. Anyone ever tell you that?”
“No one still living,” I threatened as we headed down the stairs.
Once in the kitchen, I started pulling out ingredients as Jesse tried to
help/got in the way. I shooed him off several times because the phrase I got
it means nothing in Jesse-speak. When he started washing the blueberries
I’d already washed, I took him by the shoulders and steered him over to the
barstools.
“Sit,” I said, and he did with a huff.
“I was just trying to help.”
“My kitchen, my rules.” Without his backseat cooking, I was able to get
the batter going in no time. “What time does the tow truck get here?”
“Five minutes before you woke up,” he said with a chuckle. “Will you
drop me off at the center?”
“Yes, yes, as soon as the fucking sun comes up,” I said testily. “Good
Lord, Fox.”
 “Just checking.”
“Why don’t you just borrow one of my cars? And don’t,” I said not
bothering to look up as I folded the extra-clean blueberries into the batter.
“I’m not in the mood for arguing you down today.”
“Holy fuck, you’re grouchy in the mornings,” he said with a little grin.
“Not sure this counts as morning other than the clock insisting that it is.
I only get up this early for flights and if the house is on fire.”
“How about a burglar?”
“Well, I’m not going to help him lift my TV off the wall,” I said
reasonably. “Take the shit and don’t make a mess. Oh, and don’t shoot me.
Everything is insured and I didn’t see your face.”
He laughed. “If only all robberies could go so smoothly.”
I had to bite my tongue to keep from suggesting he buy a new car.
Instead, I went over to the stove and started pouring the batter into the hot
skillet, making circles that I knew would look like shit. I needed about four
pancakes before they started looking IHOP worthy.
I was rewarded for my patience when he started speaking again,
unprompted. “My father had a car just like the Plymouth,” he said quietly.
“When I’m in that car, it just takes me back, you know?”
“Yeah, I do. I don’t have a car to remember my dad by, but I have
football. When I’m out there, it’s like he’s right there with me.” At Jesse’s
hesitant smile, I went on. “He loved to do drills with me, even when my
skill surpassed his. I expected him to be mad about that, but he just smiled
and told me, ‘AJ, that was the point.’”
“He sounds…kind of wonderful.”
“He was,” I said simply.
“My dad wasn’t like that. He was a good guy but stability wasn’t
exactly his forte. He bounced around from job to job and to be perfectly
honest, I think he was out of our lives more than he was in. One day, he just
never came back.” He frowned as he made swirls on the counter with his
finger. “Turns out he had another family up in Buffalo. Guess he liked them
a little better.”
“How old were you?” My fingers tightened on my spatula as I flipped a
pancake so aggressively that it wound up on the floor. “Fuck.”
“That’s yours,” he said with a faint smile. “And I was twelve.”
 I tempered my reaction because this wasn’t about me, this was about
Jesse. My anger couldn’t help a little boy that grew up with the idea that no
one wanted him. I planned to show him that I did. More than I’d wanted
anything in my life.
“Did you ever see him again?”
“Yeah, I looked him up about ten years ago. Joshua has this thing about
dealing with the past and not letting it rule your life and blah the fucking
blah…he wouldn’t shut up about it.” Jesse sent me an aggrieved look. “He’s
been insufferable ever since he started therapy.”
I laughed. “I’ll tell him you said that.”
“Do it and a floor pancake will be the least of your worries.”
I wasn’t afraid in the least. I’d eaten worse on a dare with little to no
stakes. My stomach reminded me of the Twix-a-thon Everett challenged me
to and I redirected my thoughts before I hurled from the memory alone.
“How did it go with your father?”
He shrugged. “We met up and had a stilted conversation over lunch. I
wondered why he insisted on going to a hot dog stand until he started
reminiscing about how much I used to love it. No matter how I tried to
move forward, he wanted to see me as that twelve-year-old kid.”
“Parents do that sometimes. It’s hard watching your kids grow up.”
He shook his head. “No, it was more than that. It was like he felt so
guilty that he decided to freeze our relationship. He didn’t want to hear
about anything that happened after he left, especially the bad stuff. But he
didn’t want to hear the good stuff, either.”
“Why not?”
“Because he wasn’t part of it. In the end, I realized he was still the same
selfish asshole he’d always been. Our relationship was still all about him.”
“You haven’t seen him since?”
He shook his head. “We exchange emails sometimes, but I don’t think
he’s good for my life. I can’t have him be part of it. Not in any real way.”
“So why on earth do you drive that car?”
His smile was a little rueful. “Because he’s still my dad.”
I wished I didn’t get that. Sometimes family got away with shit I’d
clock a motherfucker for. “You don’t talk much about your mother.”
“No, I don’t,” he said flatly. “My mother is no longer in my life.”
 Voluntarily? I caught the word right before it rolled off my tongue. It
was clear from the set of his shoulders that it wasn’t his decision to be
motherless. And suddenly his dedication to the center took on even more
significance.
“She kicked you out because you were gay,” I said grimly.
“Yeah. I knew she was old-fashioned and stuck in the past. Every time I
heard her say some off-color shit about ‘those people,’ I just made excuses.
Oh, she’s only saying these things because she doesn’t know about me. If
she only knew, she wouldn’t feel that way. So I gave her the chance to
know the real me. And she showed me the door. I was fourteen.” He bit his
lip. “I can still hear her voice and see the look on her face. The same
woman who made it to every soccer game I ever had, looking at me like I
was something that crawled out of the drain trap. No son of mine will ever
be gay, Jamison.”
“Jamison?” I asked softly. “Is that your real—”
“I’m Jesse,” he said firmly. “Jamison is dead and gone.”
“Where did you go?”
“My grandpa’s house. He took me in after even though I was sure he
would show my ass the door. He wasn’t happy about me living there. He
was even less happy about me being gay. But he always said family was
family. I was as good as possible, so he’d have no reason to throw me out. I
was afraid to breathe wrong.”
“How long did that last?” I asked grimly.
“That worked for about a year and a half until he passed. He never had
much money and they swooped in pretty quickly after to strip his house
down to the bones. My mother told me her rule still stood unless I changed
my mind. If I agreed to speak with their pastor and go to his retreat for
confused boys like me, we could wipe the slate clean.”
“One of those fucking camps?”
He blew out a breath. “Probably.”
Boy, my teeth were really getting a workout this morning. I ground
them yet again as I bit back a few curses. “What did you do?”
“What could I do? I survived any way I could. Sometimes I made
decisions I wish I didn’t have to make. I stole. I ate out of garbage cans. I
sold things that, at least for me, were always unsellable,” he said carefully.
“I lived in a condemned building for a while. That was okay except for the
fucking bugs. To this day, I can’t stand bugs of any kind. Roaches will
crawl on you while you sleep, you know? At first it feels like a stray hair,
but once you know that feeling, you’ll never mistake it for anything else.”
“Jesse.” My voice was rough and ragged and there was nothing I could
do about whatever was going on with my face anymore. “I’m sorry.”
“Why? It wasn’t like you had anything to do with it.” He lifted a
shoulder. “And it was a long time ago.”
“That has nothing to do with my sorry.”
He stared at me for a few moments, so long that I wondered if I’d said
the wrong thing. Too bad. It was the only thing I had in my mind other than
murderous thoughts about anyone who’d ever hurt my Jesse.
The corner of his mouth kicked up. “You sappy bastard,” he accused.
I huffed out a laugh. “Guilty as charged,” I admitted as I served up the
pancakes. I sprinkled blueberries over them like I was Emeril Lagasse or
some shit and slid the plate in front of him.
He looked suitably impressed. “Hey, do you have—”
I put the syrup in front of him.
“And a—”
I held out a fork with my eyebrow raised.
“It’s like you’re a food genie,” he said in wonder, which made me
chuckle.
Once I had mine plated, glasses of orange juice and bottled water joined
the haul. Then I slid onto the barstool next to him and dug in. Two pancakes
in, my stomach was appeased enough that I could stop scarfing and talk
again. Jesse’s gates were open and I wasn’t about to let him corral the
horses back in. Not just yet.
“Tell me more about your family.”
He frowned even as he forked up a few blueberries and stuffed them in
his mouth. “Haven’t you done enough excavating?”
“It’s called getting to know someone, sour patch kid.”
“I don’t want to talk about the bad things anymore.” Disappointed that
all his blueberries were gone, he eyed my plate and I pulled it farther away.
“You shortchanged me on the blueberries, McAdams. For all of my honesty,
I deserve blueberries.”
I sighed and gave him a handful of mine. “Here, you whiny baby. You
don’t have to talk about the bad stuff anymore. Tell me about the good
things. That’s…assuming there were any.” I paused. “And before you
answer, please keep in mind that I’m this close to strangling an old
woman.”
His mouth twitched. “You’re not strangling my mother,” he said. “My
childhood wasn’t all bad.”
“Funny. I haven’t heard any good shit yet.”
He huffed out a laugh...and then he started to talk. We talked long after
the pancakes were gone and the sun rose. I put my elbow on the island and
propped my cheek on my hand.
I’d chosen a sterile white palette for the kitchen because it was starkly
beautiful, all white quartz and stainless steel. But it had always been cold. It
was filled with warmth now, with Jesse talking more than I’d ever heard
him talk, laughing more than I’d ever heard him laugh. No place I’d rather
be.
“My hours are over at the center,” I blurted before realizing I’d cut him
off mid-sentence. “Sorry.”
His mouth quirked. “And you’re telling me things I know because….”
“Because I don’t want this to be over, too.”
The ensuing silence was the loudest thing I’d ever heard, but his
expressive face spoke volumes. He wanted this as badly as I did. And now I
knew all the things that were holding him back.
“Before you say no—”
“I’m not sure I could ever say no to you,” he said quietly.
“That bodes well for our sex life. There are a few things I want to try
that require trust and handcuffs.” That got me an elbow to the gut that I
richly deserved. “Hey, I’m full of pancakes over here!”
He looked amused. “Then don’t be a brat.”
Talk about asking me to do the impossible. I kept mum about that aspect
of my personality. Some things he’d just have to find out on his own.
“Tell me that it hasn’t gotten serious for you, and I’ll let it go. Not
graciously,” I added. “But I will. I want you to be happy.”
“You make me happy,” he said, almost looking surprised at the words
coming out of his mouth. “Maybe…maybe what we have right now can be
enough.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“It means I enjoy you and I want you to enjoy me.”
 “Stop talking about me like I’m a ripe plum.”
“More like a soft, potentially rotten orange.”
I huffed. “Now that’s just hurtful. Do you want to hear my plan or not?”
At his slight nod, I went on. “I want to talk to Ari. If anyone knows how to
tame a media circus, it’s him.”
His look was grim. “A circus, huh?”
“Figure of speech.”
It wasn’t. We both knew that. But the thing about circuses was that they
eventually packed up and left town. I didn’t think that would be helpful to
point out, so I just waited.
“I guess just talking wouldn’t hurt,” he said slowly.
“Exactly. No one is announcing anything,” I said firmly. “Your pace,
okay?”
His shoulders slumped with relief as he nodded slowly. He looked so
much like a little kid that I couldn’t help but chuckle softly. “C’mere.”
I pulled him into a hug, expecting stiff shoulders and reluctance. He
practically melted into me like he wanted to climb into my clothes. I buried
my face in his hair as I rubbed his back. It felt right. Like he belonged in my
arms.
I hadn’t been lying before—I wanted to make him happy. Whatever it
took. It was a hell of a time to realize that I would do just about anything
for him. I tightened my arms around him and he sighed like I was the only
thing holding him together. Anything.
Except let him go.
25
 JESSE

W e got to Ari’s office after hours. The building was darkened and quiet,
and I was instinctively tempted to maintain the hush. Andrew seemed
to be in the opposite mood. He’d been chatty as fuck since we’d gotten in
the car, which was kind of endearing. He only did his I’m an eager squirrel
begging for nuts routine when he was nervous.
“We should go get Chinese after this. I saw this orange chicken recipe
on my Facebook feed, and I’ve been thinking about that shit all day.” He bit
his lip. “Although I wouldn’t say no to Korean food. I could murder some
short ribs right about now….”
He glanced at my face and sighed, rubbing both hands down his face.
“I’m talking too much, aren’t I?”
I leaned over and kissed him because I could. “It’s fine.”
The elevator opened soundlessly on the twenty-fourth floor. As we
walked through the office, I couldn’t help but take in the opulence. No
cubicles and desks up here, just large, frosted doors with printed names and
long titles.
We entered Ari’s office to find him at his desk. He glanced up from a
bank of flat screens and waved impatiently. “Have a seat,” he said as he
typed, fingers moving over the keyboard quickly. “Be with you in a sec.”
His office was pretty much what I would’ve expected—fancy and
devoid of warmth. It was about three times the size of mine, and most of the
furniture seemed to be a combination of glass and chrome, which made the
room seem about as sterile as a vacuum-sealed hypodermic needle.
 Ari finished typing whatever he was working on so busily and sat back
in his chair. “So. What can I do for my favorite client?”
Andrew raised an eyebrow. “Oh, has Blue disappeared into the
Bermuda Triangle? Too bad, so sad.”
“And here I thought you’d appreciate your daily sprinkle of bullshit.”
Ari’s mouth quirked as he started working his tie loose one-handed. “What
can I do for you?”
I waited for Andrew to speak, only to find him looking at me patiently.
Right. My pace. I blew out a breath. “We need to talk to you about some
things…things that might get out were we to go public with our
relationship.”
Ari’s gaze was steady and cool. “What kind of things?”
Ruinous kinds of things.
I could hem and haw and waste time. But I already knew what I wanted,
and he was sitting right next to me. That meant doing things I wished I
didn’t have to do. I turned to Ari, facing his knowing look head-on.
On second thought, maybe I didn’t have to say anything at all.
“You know,” I said quietly.
He snorted. “Was there ever any doubt?” He rifled through his desk
drawer for a few seconds before he pulled out a blue folder. He let it drop
on the desk. “My number one priority will always be to protect my client.”
When I made no move to take it, he gave it a push closer to my side.
Near the top was a pink sticky with one word scrawled on it. Foxhill.
“I know we don’t know each other, Jesse, but there are a few things that
are undeniable about me,” he said coolly. “I never act rashly. I make a mean
coconut cake. And I always do my research.”
I could only stare at the folder numbly. Judging from the way Andrew
tensed beside me, he wasn’t a fan of the snooping.
“You had a background check done on him? I told you to leave it alone,
Ari,” he snapped. “He already told me about his past.”
Ari raised an eyebrow. “All of it?” He gestured at the folder. “Open it.”
Andrew looked ready to set it on fire instead, so I did the honors. My
last mug shot stared up at me. I hadn’t seen that face in a long time. I had
longer hair then and a hard expression on my face. My eyes were angry and
belligerent, and I had the beginnings of a bruise on my cheek. I remember
the officer had slammed me down on the hood of his cruiser and my face
had taken the brunt of the hit.
I flipped through the four mug shots, each one getting progressively
younger. I was sixteen in the last one, my face gaunter than I remembered.
I’d only been on the streets for six months then, and I’d been grateful for
that arrest. A place to sleep and a guaranteed meal sounded like heaven. A
few months in lockup taught me the error of that thinking. Things could get
harder than eating food out of a garbage can and sleeping under a cardboard
box.
Burglary. Larceny. Grand Theft Auto. Prostitution.
The motley crew of charges blurred as my face burned. I’d already
alluded to the truth to Andrew back in his sunny kitchen, yes. But seeing it
in stark black and white made me want to run out of this building and never
look back.
His jaw looked tight enough to shatter with one good tap. His knuckles
were white as he clenched the chair’s arms. He took in my hangdog
expression and his face took on a furious cast.
“Seriously, Jesse? You can’t seriously think…I don’t blame you. I just
can’t believe you had to go through this. God.” He stabbed his fingers
through his hair and pulled a little until I smacked them away. I happened to
like his shampoo-ad hair. “How could you ever think I’d judge you for your
past?”
“I don’t know. I just…Trace used to say that—”
“I am not Trace King,” he thundered.
I sat back in my chair. I hated when he was right. There was absolutely
nothing he’d done in our dealings together to make me think he was
anything other than what he was—a sweet, amazing guy, who for some
reason, seemed to think I was the best thing since sliced bread. And nothing
in this folder would ever change that.
There was a full page of writing behind the pictures, and I scooted the
damning mug shots aside to get a better look. “Where did you get this?”
“A reporter who happens to be a friend of mine. He sent me the photos,
too.”
“What is it?” Andrew demanded, and I handed over the article about our
relationship with numb fingers.
“With friends like these,” I muttered.
 “He’s a friend because he’s giving me the heads-up,” Ari said pointedly.
“Luckily for you two, I know where the bodies are buried.”
“Which means?”
“That he’s willing to make some changes to the story before it goes
out.”
“What kind of changes?” Andrew asked, his brow furrowed.
“The kind of changes that blurs the pictures and redacts Jesse’s name
from the article. The kind of changes that makes this less of a personal
interest piece and more of a gossipy story with no proof, one that will
disappear,” he said coolly. “The kind of changes that don’t pair you up with
a fucking prostit—”
Andrew was out of his chair before the last word left Ari’s mouth, his
hand balling up his agent’s shirt. At the neck. Ari swatted at his hands
ineffectively, twisting this way and that.
Oh shit. I lunged out of my chair to grab his arm and yanked, hard. It
was like trying to move a brick wall and judging from Ari’s gasp, Andrew
was about to have a mug shot of his own. “Will you stop that?” I yelled.
“You’re making things worse.”
“This,” Ari gasped. “This is what I wanted you to see.”
He gave Ari a good shake. “See what?” he growled. “How far you can
push me before I do something I’ll go to jail for?”
“Baby.” That single word made him freeze and he looked at me—really
looked at me for the first time since he’d decided that both the question and
answer was a beatdown. “He’s showing us what it’s going to be like.”
Emotions flitted across his face in rapid succession as he struggled to
get it together and keep it together. I began to fear for his blood pressure
from the dusky color of his cheeks. I saw the moment that he got it, really
got it.
They were going to tear me apart.
His shoulders finally relaxed and he let go of Ari’s shirt slowly. Ari
sank in his chair, straightening his collar and smoothing out wrinkles. His
expression was entirely too placid for someone who’d almost been
strangled with a Tom Ford shirt.
He watched warily as we both took our seats.
“Very good, Jesse.” Ari nailed me with an intense stare. “That was mild
compared to what you’re in for. Do you understand?”
 I nodded jerkily. I could rant and rave that I was a different person now,
but at the end of the day, I would be judged. Harshly. I’d lose friends.
Colleagues. Maybe my job. I knew Joshua didn’t care about my past, but
we couldn’t afford to lose donors. I’d quit before I let that happen.
“Despite what Cujo here is telling you, I’m on your side.” At Andrew’s
little growl, Ari’s mouth twitched. “The things you’ve accomplished are
nothing short of amazing. You were a kid who was dealt a shitty hand. And
instead of complaining about your cards, you played them.”
Fuck, I’d rather he call me a prostitute again than suffer through praise.
“I don’t know about all that,” I said awkwardly.
“I wasn’t asking,” he said mildly. “And I don’t blow smoke up people’s
asses unless they pay me ten percent, so you can believe what I say.”
“Everyone isn’t going to be quite as enamored.”
“You don’t need everyone,” Andrew said, his voice rough. His eyes
were intense on mine. “You have me.”
“And me.” From the little grin he sent me, Ari was well aware he’d
ruined a potential moment. “I can promise I’ll be in your corner, smoothing
over any rough edges I can. I just wanted you to know what you’re up
against.”
“Right.” I blew out a breath. “I need time to think.”
“You have all the time you need.” Before I could breathe a sigh of
relief, he added, “As long as you only need two weeks. That’s how long my
reporter friend gave me before he runs the article as is.”
“Is he trustworthy?”
“No, but he owes me. I don’t trot out the favors often, but when I do,
they’re effective. And I only do it for friends, not clients,” he said with a
pointed sniff in Andrew’s direction.
He sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“You owe me a shirt,” Ari said, looking down at the yoke which was
twisted and wrinkled beyond repair.
“Fine.”
“And some scotch. Not that cheap shit you drink, either. I’m talking top
drawer, premium stuff. The kind you see in a commercial about being
interesting and suave.”
He sighed louder. “Done.”
“Good. Now get out of my office.”
 The ride to the lobby was a silent one, each of us lost in our thoughts.
The quiet lasted all the way to the car and even as we buckled up. Andrew
broke the silence first. “Come home with me tonight?”
I shook my head. “I can’t…I need time to think.”
Without you. The words didn’t need to be spoken. When we were
together like this, he made anything seem possible. I could barely get out
the question is it worth it without my heart singing yessss. I needed to think
about the consequences. I didn’t want to be tempted to do something rash.
“You need time to think, huh?” His jaw tightened. “There’s no worse
phrase in the English language when it comes to relationships.”
I didn’t know about that. I can’t do this had to be pretty high up on the
list, too.
I put my hand palm up on the middle console. He looked at it for a
moment before enfolding it in his larger one. He had to do some fancy
driving so we maintained the connection, but I didn’t care.
I didn’t plan on letting go until I had to.
26
 ANDREW

P ostgame interviews were a necessary evil. That was even more true
when you’d missed half the season, came back out of the blue, and had
one of the best games of your career. Half-dressed and still a little sweaty,
all I wanted was a shower and enough ice to submerge my everything. And
food. Copious amounts of food.
Instead, I put on my game face and let Vaughn do most of the talking.
I’d scored a touchdown when we needed it most, a fifteen-yard beauty of a
carry where my rehabbed knee left Jayson Hurkle in the dust. Okay, I didn’t
so much as leave him in the dust as charge into the end zone a half-step
ahead. Then I ran out of bounds so I didn’t get a first-hand demonstration of
why they called him the Incredible Hurk.
I sat up straighter when Vaughn nudged me with his thigh. Look alive,
McAdams, this one is for you.
A woman with a blond bob looked at me expectantly, and I was
momentarily distracted by the fact that her glasses had no lenses. “Tandy
Lewis with the Aventura Daily. McAdams, there’s been a lot of buzz about
your return. Are you satisfied with your performance tonight?”
I made a game-winning touchdown, lady. I did my best not to give her
crazy eyes. The only way I could’ve outperformed myself was to use my
Madden avatar.
I channeled my best media darling before I answered. “I couldn’t have
asked for anything better. We’ve got an amazing team and everyone put in a
thousand percent effort tonight.”
 She sent me a sunny smile. “So how does it feel to be back?”
Are these even real questions anymore? I wondered if anyone was ever
tempted to say something crazy to spice things up. I could see the headline
now: Honey Nut Cheerios Taste Better Eaten Out Of A Shoe, says tight end
beleaguered by injuries.
“I couldn’t be happier,” I said simply.
That was actual factual. But right about now, I wanted to get out of
there. Handling all the media attention only reminded me of Jesse. And why
he was never going to agree to make things real between us.
That didn’t mean I was ready to give up. Somewhere along the way, I’d
found what I hadn’t even known I’d been looking for. Media shitstorm or
not, I wasn’t going to give him up that easily. As Vaughn answered a
question with perfect aplomb—something about sportsmanship and
teammates and…well, what the fuck ever—I glanced at my watch.
“Last question, guys,” I said, surprising Vaughn. He was known to
answer questions until they got tired of asking them. But I had some shit to
do and someplace to be.
It was late, but maybe Jesse was still up. He’d asked for time to think.
Not space. That loophole gave me enough wiggle room to see him, even if
it was just for a brief hi and a kiss before we went to sleep.
Ugh. I was so far gone I disgusted myself.
Charlie Sparks with ESPN2 already had a question all cued up, one
designed to annoy the fuck out of me. “How much of your win do you
credit to your training with Blue Montgomery?”
Too bad he didn’t know how grateful I was to Blue. Now that we
weren’t in competition for the same spot, I had nothing but mad respect for
him.
“Blue is an amazing coach and a mentor of sorts. That’s probably
because he’s so much older.” I gave Sparks a lazy grin, scratching my
eyebrow with my middle finger. “I can’t thank him enough for coming out
of the old folks’ home to help out.”
Easy and light. That got me the laughs I was looking for. I put up with
three more are you fucking kidding me questions from people who clearly
didn’t understand the phrase “last question, guys.” When someone asked
me about my DUI, Vaughn and I simultaneously stood and ended the press
junket because nah, we weren’t doing that.
 I headed to my locker. The mood in the locker room was upbeat and
loud. The guys seemed split into two camps—some couldn’t wait to get out
of here, and others wanted to linger and enjoy the win. I was definitely in
the former group. I accepted several backslaps and fist bumps before I sat in
my locker. I texted Jesse one-handed as I rifled through my bag for
sundries. I want to see you.
I waited a few moments, but he didn’t respond. So I hit the showers. I
was headed out of the building, my bag over my shoulder, before my phone
binged with a text.
Foxy: New phone, who dis?
I chuckled, absently waving goodbye to the security guard. I waited
until I was in my truck with the A/C running before I responded.
Me: You’ve been working with kids too long. Did you watch the game
Foxy: No
Me: Lies. Better be lies
Foxy: Fine, I watched. I’d tell you how great you were, but I know you
hate a fuss
Me: I love a fuss. You know this. Tell me and tell me slow
Foxy: I’m not storking your ego
Me: Definitely don’t stork it, plz. Whatever the fuck that is
Foxy: Stroke. I meant stroke.
Me: Yes, plz. Double helping of that.
Me: I’m sending you my door code
Me: I want you in my bed naked
Foxy: …..
Me: Make it happen, Foxy
Foxy: Go stork yourself
27
 JESSE

T emporary insanity. That’s the only excuse I had for waiting for him in
his bed. Naked. I’d even gone a step farther, prepping and lubing
myself. That was for me, though. The sooner he opened me up on that thick
cock, the better. I’d lain there, flushed to my very toes and feeling very
much like a groupie or something…until he came through the door and
stopped dead in his tracks.
He looked at me like I was every fantasy he had come to life, which was
gratifying. Confusing, but gratifying. Obviously, he needed glasses, but he
didn’t give me a chance to tell him so. Instead, he climbed up on the bed
and proceeded to blow my mind—and my cock—with that talented mouth.
Just as I was about to come, he pulled back. He stripped, quicker than a
flash, and I held back any commentary about the purple splotch of a bruise
above his ribs. I touched it, gently, and he winced.
“Looks worse than it is.” He moved my hand and kissed my fingers.
“Don’t worry about it.”
Me? Not worry? Maybe he should ask me to solve world hunger while I
was at it.
I’d prepared myself for a hard and fast ride. But he didn’t seem to be in
any hurry to get this show on the road. He loomed over me, one hand
holding my thighs open so he could get a better view. Then he moved his
finger slowly in and out of my hole a few times, his gaze intense.
“God, everything about you is pretty,” he murmured. “Even this sweet
little hole.”
 I didn’t think it was possible to blush harder. I was wrong. “Fuck off.”
He tsked and sent me a wicked little smile. “Is that the attitude of
someone who wants to get his pretty little hole fucked? Now I think you
should ask me nicely.”
“Ask you….” If my glare could’ve lasered him through, he would’ve
been one dead duck. “Let’s just put that on the list of things that aren’t ever
gonna happen.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.”
He looked entirely too confident. But then again so was I…at least I
was until his hand dropped down to his cock. He started stroking himself,
slow and easy, root to tip and then back down again. He let out a groan as
his head fell back. After a few minutes, things got nice and slick and he
started working himself over.
I looked at him in dismay. Just what the hell did he think he was doing
with my hard-on? And yes, when we were in bed like this, it did belong to
me. Every fucking inch of it. When he opened his eyes again, they were a
little unfocused, his pupils blown.
“You wouldn’t dare,” I said.
Apparently, he would. He gave my splayed thighs a rude push,
spreading them even farther apart. He seemed fixated on my glistening hole
and his slow, easy stroke got firmer. Punishing, almost. “You’re about to be
shit out of luck,” he informed me roughly.
“I’m getting there.”
“Get there faster.”
“Please,” I finally said through gritted teeth. “Please fuck me.”
I patiently waited for my face to go up in flames, but no such luck. You
could, however, cook an egg to sunny-side up perfection on my heated
cheeks.
“Fuck, Jess.” He grabbed his balls with a grimace and squeezed,
looking like he was in a world of pain. After a moment, he let out a deep
breath. “That was close.”
And just like that, the power transferred right into my hot little hands.
I’d never been one of those people infatuated with power. I hated telling
people what to do almost as much as I hated being told what to do. But at
that moment, I could see the appeal. Having even one iota of control over
this man was a heady feeling.
 “What’s the matter?” I gave him an innocent smile just shy of wicked.
“You don’t want to fuck my pretty little—”
He covered my mouth with his big hand, slamming his eyes shut. His
mouth moved soundlessly as he counted, trying to hold back. I watched his
dick jerking against his stomach, wondering if he’d win the battle.
He finally let out a breath and released my mouth with a wheezy
chuckle. “Okay, no more out of you.”
“You did ask,” I said helpfully.
“So did you.” His eyes glinted with something that made my heart race
in anticipation. “So maybe I should give you what you asked for.”
Once again, I expected fast and hard. I got slow and easy, his forehead
pressed against mine. Every time I tried to speed things up, he slowed back
down. At one point, I gripped his muscled ass with both hands and got a
good minute of staccato thrusts that felt like heaven on earth. I was a
wanton thing, digging my heels in the mattress and bucking on his dick. He
took both of my hands in his and pressed them down on the mattress beside
my head.
I insisted that he wasn’t giving me what I needed when we both knew
he damn well was. I blindly sought his mouth with mine as I came, hard. I
cried out, digging my blunt nails into his forearms as my vision went white
around the edges. I had no choice but to ride out the wave. He murmured
nonsense in my ear the entire time, nonsense that I clung to. You did so
good. Love fucking you. Never felt anything like this before.
And when he’d safely guided my landing, he gripped my thighs and
fucked me hard. No finesse. Just a race to his finish with his eyes intense on
mine, wordlessly daring me to look away. It only took a minute before he
followed me over the cliff. He finally broke my gaze, burying his face in
my neck and groaning his release. I rubbed my hands over the straining
musculature of his back, damp and shaking under my palms.
And then everything was still.
Ambient sound filtered back in and I heard the soft hum of the air
conditioner as it kicked on. I was in no hurry to leave our sex bubble. But
all things have to come to an end, even indescribably special moments
when the world ceases to exist.
He rolled off me with a groan and staggered off the bed. I listened to
him move about the bathroom with half an ear. I heard the sound of water
as it went on and off a few times. Then a curse as he probably bumped into
something.
I lay there and stared up at the ceiling.
I could hear the soft pad of his footsteps as he came back to bed, but I
didn’t look until something damp and chilly on my skin made me jump. I
blinked to find him standing there with a wet washcloth. A couple of drops
of water rolled off my thigh and dampened the sheet.
“Sorry.” He gave me a charming little grin as he continued wiping me
down like a big fucking baby. I did my part and pretended it didn’t make me
feel special. “The washcloth was warm when I left the bathroom.”
“Well, considering your room is the size of Alaska, that is a trek. Maybe
you should put a bathroom on this side, too. You know, for convenience.”
“I’m a simple guy with simple tastes,” he reminded me with a grin, and
I chuckled.
“Simple my ass.”
“Speaking of your ass—”
“Can we not—”
“It’s probably pretty sore right about now.” He gave me an expectant
look. “I bet a hot bath sounds good right about now, yeah?”
“I’m not a virgin debutante,” I said tartly. Then I winced a little as I
moved. “Also, yes.”
He looked eager to do something nice for me, which was pretty much
Andrew in a nutshell. I listened to him moving about in the bathroom,
reflecting on yet another life lesson learned. There was a time to be a
sarcastic asshole and there was a time to soak in a tub that was probably
jetted.
Hmph. I could always be an asshole in the tub, though. That’s just smart
multitasking, and I’m an efficient kind of guy. Comforted by that thought, I
rolled off the bed and headed for the bathroom.
I wasn’t sure how he’d done it so quickly, but it looked romantic…like
something you’d see in a movie and think, that kind of shit doesn’t happen
in real life. The lights were low and there were honest-to-goodness candles
lit on the long, marble vanity. Closer inspection revealed them to be
flameless and I wondered how many hookups had gotten the Andrew
McAdams romantic bath with candles treatment.
 I banished the thought from my mind. Sometimes I felt like the only
purpose of the past was to keep me from enjoying the present, and I wasn’t
about to let that happen.
I gave the air a sniff because it smelled like something flowery. Then I
cast a glance at the ginormous freestanding tub still filling with water. The
top was foamy like he’d put something in there. Something like….
“Bubbles,” I said with a gasp of dismay. “No.”
“Yes, and you’ll like them.” He laid out a couple of fluffy towels on the
vanity. “I could lie and say the bath bombs were a gift, but I bought them
myself.”
“I wonder how much I could get if I sold that story?”
“Not enough to pay for the broken kneecaps.”
I chuckled. “You’ll get in with me?”
“Why, Jesse. Bubbles and a romantic bath for two?” A little smile
crossed his lips. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”
Why, oh why, did I find that little shit amusing? “Shut up and get in the
fucking tub.”
He clutched his chest. “Love the way you romance me, sweetheart.”
“Don’t make me dunk you,” I threatened.
“I think I’d like to see that, Fox. I really would. Because size-wise, the
logistics aren’t adding up.” His hands slid around my waist as he pulled me
closer, those honey eyes alight with laughter. “You should know that.
You’re a logistics kind of guy.”
“I’m scrappy,” I said confidently, bouncing on my toes. Declaring you
can do some shit you probably can’t do adds spice to life.
That prompted some tickling from him and some wild laughter and
flailing from me. Even as I scrambled to get the tub between us, I wondered
where this new Jesse came from and if he’d murdered the old one or just
shackled him in a basement. I wasn’t sure I cared.
The laughter between us faded as we perused each other frankly,
morphing into something deeper. Heavier. His eyes crinkled at the corners
as he reached out and pulled me closer, just one big paw around my neck
that made me feel safe, safe, safe. My pulse pounded a little harder and I
know he felt it.
He frowned, rubbing my jumping pulse with his thumb. “Jess—”
 I lunged forward and pressed my mouth to his. It was messy and
uncoordinated and mostly teeth before he took control of it and slowed
things down. He rubbed his hands up and down my back. There was a
tremor in my hands when I finally pulled away, and I clenched them into
fists.
He stared at me for a few seconds, and I could see all the different
questions he wanted to ask. He settled on a neutral, “Are you okay?”
Not in the least. “Of course,” I said. “Now. I believe I was promised a
bath in that thing you call a tub. I’d like to take a dip before the dolphins
want their turn.”
“I’m a simple man,” he reminded me with a grin.
He got in first because he was a fucking giant, sloshing water even out
of his ginormous-sized tub. And then he beckoned me in as if he hadn’t just
displaced half the water onto the floor. I slid in and sat against him stiffly,
unused to this much closeness and feeling vulnerable as hell.
It's just a bath, Jess.
I blew out a frustrated breath. I’d asked for this. If I hadn’t, I knew he
would’ve been perfectly happy to leave me in here all alone. But I didn’t
want to be alone. Funny thing, that. I didn’t know how to be together, either.
After a moment, he chuckled and pulled me against him, kissing my
neck and tickling me until I relaxed. And then he wound his arms around
me. With the hot, soothing water and him behind me, I felt cherished.
Special. Safe. I relaxed.
“You just might be the sweetest, prickliest person I’ve ever met,” he
whispered near my ear. “Like a living Sour Patch Kid.”
I smacked him even as I sank into the water. His laughter was just a soft
rumble near my ear. The heat was already working its magic and I felt
drowsy as could be.
“You’re staying tonight, right?” He asked.
Staying? I was comfort on top of comfort annexed by comfort. If he
wanted me to leave, he was going to have to load me into a trebuchet and
launch me over the gates. “Of course,” I mumbled. “Don’t let me fall
asleep.”
I felt a kiss pressed into my hair. “I’ve got you.”
I know you do. Why do you think I’m shaking in my boots?
 I wasn’t sure which part was the scariest part of falling in love.
Wondering if you were going to hit the ground…or knowing someone was
there to catch you.
28
 JESSE

V isitor’s day at the facility was about as busy as I’d expected. I picked up
Harper on the way, and he was having a difficult time maintaining even
a hint of the requisite teenage ennui. I did him a favor and pretended not to
notice. I even ignored the little bounce he did in his seat as I pulled into the
facility parking lot, coughing to hide my laughter. From his glare, I don’t
think he appreciated my effort.
I’d texted Andrew on the way, and he was waiting in the atrium, a wide
grin on his face. He fist-bumped Harper and then gave me a bro hug with a
copious amount of back-slapping. I knew that was for my benefit. Little did
he know. I wished I could greet him with the proper amount of affection for
someone who’d given me a blowjob in the shower this morning and then
made me French toast.
Seeing how pleased he was that I’d made it, I suddenly felt bad that I
hadn’t been to anything of his before. Watching it on television didn’t
count. I silently resolved to take him up on the open offer of tickets to his
next game. Before he could show us around, he was called away. He
hustled off, walking backward and promising he’d catch up with us later.
Harper eyed me speculatively. “Are you guys together?”
I refused to be stared down by a kid. “Of course not.”
“Really?”
“Really,” I said pointedly. “And even if we were, my love life is one-
hundred percent classified as above your paygrade.”
“Well, I don’t know what the fuck that means—”
 “Language—”
“But I just thought it would be pretty cool.” He looked vaguely
disappointed now that his hopes had been placed in my dream compactor.
Crush. "You think he’ll keep coming to the center after his hours are up?”
“I have news for you, kiddo. His hours have been up. Everything he’s
done lately is because he wanted to.”
I ruffled his hair as a gamut of emotions crossed his face—happy and
shy seemed to lead the pack. He used his fingers like a comb to tease his
hair back up, looking desperate to change the subject. “Can we go see the
practice field?”
I hid a smile. “Yep.”
As we wandered through the facility, there seemed to be a lot of special
access places that only Harper and I could go. And a lot of people on the
team seemed to know who I was for no reason at all. At one point, a big guy
in Outlaws’ gear rushed me and lifted me off my feet. Before I could
scrabble for my mace, I realized he was giving me a bear hug. When he
finally let me go, I gaped at his grinning face. He was brown-skinned and
broad-shouldered and tall, with gorgeous brown eyes, and…what the hell
was I saying again?
“You’re family now, bro,” he said. “Although I admit, I never thought
I’d see the day.”
“You and me both.” Another guy in sweats and a backward ball cap
meandered over. Even though he had to be six foot six and had one hell of a
mean mug, he looked almost…pouty. “I had that bet in the bag. I was
positive Jesse didn’t exist.”
I sighed. I didn’t ask for the details of this new Andrew/Jesse betting
pool. Next to me, Harper was busy having an out-of-body experience.
“You’re Dane Williams,” he breathed. “And you’re Everett St. John.”
Harper looked close to needing a hit of an inhaler and I gave him an
alarmed look. Suddenly, taking that CPR refresher course didn’t seem like
such a waste of time. “Breathe,” I instructed, and he gave a little gasp as he
remembered how to do just that.
Everett grinned affably. “What’s up, little dude?”
“Big fan. Me. Huge,” Harper said needlessly.
“Him. Harper,” I said helpfully only to be stabbed in the gut with his
bony little elbow. That’s the thanks I get for learning caveman speak so
quickly?
Dane dropped a big paw on Harper’s shoulder. “Hey, have you seen the
workout room yet?”
“No.” His eyes widened. “I didn’t know we could go back there.”
“Stick with me, kid, I know where all the good stuff is. Let’s go.” He
remembered himself at the last moment and glanced at me. “If it’s ok with
Foxy here.”
Oh, good. The nickname had spread. “Yeah, it’s fine.” I turned to
Harper. “Is your phone charged?”
He rolled his eyes but gave the screen a quick peek before slipping it
back into his pocket. “Seventy-five percent.”
“Okay, I want to hear from you in an hour.”
“An hour?”
I ignored his you’re embarrassing me face. If you didn’t put that
expression on a kid’s face at least once a day, you weren’t doing your job.
“I suppose you could just walk around with me. After all, I promised
your parents I’d keep an eye on you. I was thinking about hitting up the
Hall of Famers library.” I was actually interested in perusing the lounge
area full of mounted pictures with plaques, each with a story of the glory
days.
Harper’s eyes widened in horror as he squeaked, “A library?”
“Mmhmm. You should come with me. I know how you love history.
And reading.”
“One hour,” he said hurriedly, tugging on the arm of an equally terrified
Dane. Everett looked a little nauseous, too, now that I thought about it.
They all hustled off, acting like I’d announced a pop quiz.
My amusement lasted right up until the moment I looked up…and saw a
poster of the man occupying my thoughts. Life-size. I blinked up at the
poster of Andrew in full uniform, mid-step in the end zone. It was probably
more than life-sized since it was hanging from the rafters. Several other
posters of players in various poses hung alongside his, including an
awesome shot of Evan Ivanovich pounding on his chest, a fierce look on his
face. Berserker.
Andrew made it all too easy to forget who he was. He was a star player
who got featured in the news—frequently. He was a guy who did an ad for
Adidas, grousing the entire time that Blue got Nike. He was even on several
magazine covers. What was next? His face on a box of fucking cereal?
But he was also a sweet, sexy guy who could also be an enormous
goofball. He was a guy who pushed my boundaries, ones that I could admit
probably needed to be pushed. A guy who hadn’t hesitated to help me make
two dozen brownies for a church bake sale.
He was also the guy who’d stolen a dozen of the aforementioned
brownies and made me chase him down the driveway before he
relinquished the tray. Neighbors would report hearing a yell of, you only
need one dozen, Foxy before I jumped on his back. But I digress.
I worried the rubber bracelet on my wrist, the one he’d given me. Be the
change you want to see in the world. “I can’t think of anyone else who
embodies that more,” he’d said as he put it on my wrist. I just stared at him
mutely because he was also the guy who was never threatened by my
charity work.
He was perfect for me. The right one for me. I just wasn’t sure I dared
deal with everything that came with being all in.
Fuck.
I felt someone standing close to me and murmured an apology as I
moved to the side. The person moved with me, which got my attention in a
hurry. I glanced over to find a dark-haired guy standing there, looking at me
expectantly. He had silvery gray eyes and a friendly smile with a hint of
dimple. Even with the tattoos and piercings, he still fell into the category of
“pretty.” He was also around my height, which was nice to see in the land
the pituitary gland forgot. A closer look made me realize that this wasn’t
just any Outlaws fan. The corner of my mouth kicked up because I knew
our meeting wasn’t a coincidence.
“You’re Kelly Cannon.”
Those silvery eyes widened. “You know who I am?”
“Um, I’m pretty sure everyone does.”
“Oh. Yeah.” That dimpled smile turned sheepish. “I guess being
incognito in this building isn’t exactly an option.”
Was he serious? I decided not to tell him that he trended on Twitter
every time the subject of gay and the NFL came up. Or pride, rainbows, and
Blue Montgomery. If he wanted to believe he was still low-key and normal,
hey, no skin off my nose.
 “Let me guess,” I said instead. “McAdams sent you over.”
He didn’t bother with subterfuge, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes.
“He wanted to make sure you were okay and comfortable.”
I bet. I sent him a wry look. “And that I wasn’t about to pull a runner?”
“And that you weren’t about to pull a runner,” he confirmed cheerily. “I
know it can be overwhelming at first, but—”
“There is no at first. McAdams and I…we’re not like that. Like you and
Blue.” The words tasted like ash on my tongue, and that was before he sent
me a skeptical look. I doubled down. “We’re not.”
“Oh. That’s not the impression I got.” He frowned at me. “Are you sure
you two are on the same page about that?”
A chatting group of teenagers meandered down the hall and we stepped
aside to give them room. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry, and I
welcomed the distraction as they posted up nearby. “How is this any of your
business, again?”
“Because AJ is one of my friends,” he shot back. “Granted, it wasn’t an
easy transition for us to the friend zone. But once Blue got over his jealousy
and realized that he had nothing to worry about, things got better.”
“Jealousy?”
“I mean, yeah we slept together, but it was only once and that doesn’t
mean—”
“You. And he.” My eyes bulged a bit and there was nothing I could do
to return them to normal size. “You guys—”
“Oh. Sorry.” His brow furrowed. “I wasn’t aware you didn’t know.”
“No, it’s not a big deal. I just…wow.”
He started going on about something, but all I could see was Andrew
rolling around with Kelly on that fucking Kluft mattress of his. I wasn’t
jealous. Not at all. It wasn’t like he belonged to me or anything, and he
certainly didn’t owe me any explanations.
I popped my wristband a few times.
Kelly cleared his throat, giving me a pointed look. I flushed, wondering
how long I’d been standing there in silence, digesting his little truth bomb.
And then I realized why he’d said it. Fucker. Just the thought of them
sleeping together had sent me into nuclear meltdown territory. I scrubbed a
hand down my face.
“You looked like you wanted to murder me,” he said gleefully.
 I groaned. What’s happening to me?
I didn’t realize I’d spoken aloud until Kelly responded. “You’ve fallen
and you can’t get up.” He patted me on the back. “Except there’s no cool
Life Alert button to summon help.”
“Surely there was someone else he could’ve sent to keep an eye on me,”
I said with a scowl.
“No, I’m it.” He smiled with satisfaction. “And I have a feeling we’re
going to be very good friends.”
That was debatable.
His phone vibrated a few times before he pulled it out of his pocket.
Saved by the bell. Or the text, rather, I thought as he began to type.
My gaze landed on the chatting group of teenagers again and I noticed
that two of them were looking our way. One lifted his phone in a way I’m
sure he thought was sly. Don’t quit your day job. Clearly, he was taking
pictures or making a video…or whatever the hell kids were doing nowadays
to post online.
Good God. I was probably in some sort of TikTok video by now.
Hazards of standing next to Kelly, I guess. I was tempted to push him
forward as a sacrifice. Or at least steal the shades hanging from his back
pocket and cram them on my face.
“Do you ever get used to it?” I asked.
“Used to what?” He asked, still looking down at his phone.
“The attention. The spotlight. The people in your business. Talking
about you. Recording you. Photographing you without your permission.”
“No.” His mouth quirked. “But he’s worth it.”
“I don’t know how you people stand it.”
“It’s not as intense for the wives and girlfriends, especially if they don’t
have their own star power to add to the mix. Take Lana for example, who’s
a supermodel. She has an entirely different experience from Poppy, the pre-
K teacher.” Kelly shrugged. “That’s not the case for Blue and me. And I
hate to break it to you, but you’d be in the same over-publicized boat.”
Not exactly the kind of news I wanted to hear. I just wanted Andrew.
Couldn’t we shelve the rest?
“I don’t know what your story is,” Kelly said quietly. “But I know what
it’s like to have the media picking over your bones. You start thinking, what
have I fucking done? And what happened to my normal life?”
 “You’re not exactly making a case for me sticking around,” I murmured.
“I wasn’t aware I needed to. From where I’m standing, it looks like
you’ve already made up your mind. I’m just giving you time to catch up to
that realization.” As I stared at him, a little stunned, he sent me a sunny
smile. “I’m being very nice.”
I glared because his original prediction was wrong. No, we were not
going to become really good friends. “I believe you were making a point?
Or perhaps you were just running your considerably sized yap.”
“God, you’re my people.” He breathed. “Like I said. Good friends.”
“Kelly,” I growled.
“Alright, alright,” he said hurriedly. “But if nothing else, I can be your
reality check. They’re going to be a burr in your ass for the next few years
until they lock on someone else. Your life is going to change by leaps and
bounds, not small measures. Get ready to find new routes to work and burn
any sensitive trash. You should also implement security systems down at
Rainbow Harbor.”
Security systems? Fuck, a good tropical depression could probably
bring the building down.
“You’ll probably have to move if your house is easily accessible. You
need to live someplace secure—if it’s a freestanding structure, then
something with tall gates. If you prefer apartment living, then a building
with a doorman is a good place to start. A camera doorbell is nice, and a
guard dog wouldn’t hurt. We have two. Tennyson and Frost.” As my eyes
continued to enlarge, he waved a hand. “I know, I know. But my best friend
Connor won a bet and got to name them. Needless to say, he went rogue.”
“That’s not—”
“You’ll have to talk to the people in your life. The ones you work with.
Your family members. Unfortunately, you’re about to find out who can be
bought. The good news is that you’ll also find out who is loyal to a fault. So
there’s that.”
“Fuck.” I stared at him in disbelief. “You suck at motivational
speaking.”
“I’m a brilliant orator,” he insisted despite substantial proof to the
contrary. “Check my numbers on that professor rating site.”
I squinted suspiciously. The man probably had a shill leaving fake
reviews. There was no way I was the only person in the world who was
tempted to stuff him in a barrel and kick it down a hill.
“I’m going to bottom-line it for you,” he said bluntly. “You’re going to
have to make some sacrifices you never thought you’d have to make. And a
lot of your life is going to change. At the end of the day, only you can
decide if he’s worth it.”
Whatever expression I had on my face made Kelly’s eyes soften…
which was great, because I was tired of him beating me over the head with
the truth. “So. Is he?”
As if the universe was tired of him pretending he was just an everyday
guy, the group of teenagers finally worked up enough courage to make their
move. They made a noisy beeline for Kelly, chattering excitedly.
“Incoming,” I murmured.
His phone binged with another text and he glanced at it before he texted
something back. “You haven’t seen anything yet,” he said with a wry grin.
“Blue just told me that he’s five minutes away.”
Because he was a horrible little truth speaker, I stepped to the side and
let him get dive-bombed by the kids who wanted his autograph. They spoke
over one another, tripping in their eagerness to ask him questions and tell
him how amazing he was…which was nice. Probably exhausting, I thought
as Kelly sent me a desperate look around one of them—yes, around, two
small fries generally had trouble meeting eyes over anyone’s head. But nice
nonetheless.
I’d bet there were a lot of public interactions that weren’t so nice. I
thought about some nosy reporter rooting around in my past and felt short
of breath. Was I really thinking of putting myself out there like that?
Voluntarily?
“Jesse!”
I looked up to see Andrew coming down the hall, trailed by a couple of
people that were trying to be his entourage. That was kind of hard to do
with someone who never stood on ceremony. It was also hard to keep up
with someone who exercised for a living if he didn’t want you to. They
learned that in the next few minutes as he outpaced them easily.
His hands were full of kitschy Outlaws gear that I knew was for me. I
shook my head with a wry grin as I eyed the haul. A sports bottle and a
small white bear in an Outlaws shirt and a ball cap seemed to be the star of
the show. Sure enough, he plopped the cap on my head backward. Then he
frowned.
“Well?” I asked expectantly as he continued to stare.
“I don’t think you’re cool enough to pull that off.” He turned it around
to the front as I huffed out a laugh. “Better.”
“I could’ve told you that before you gave me hat hair.”
“You look cute with hat hair,” he insisted. “Here. I got you some stuff.
They were sold out of my jersey, but I got one on backorder.”
He waggled his eyebrows and I smothered a laugh. I had a feeling I
wouldn’t be wearing much else when I finally put that on. It was a little
shocking how much my mood had changed, just in the short time since he’d
arrived. And it wasn’t just that he was so gorgeous that I wanted to find an
empty practice room and lock the door behind us.
“What?” He looked down at the bear and made him dance a bit. “Too
much?”
No, it was silly and perfect and just the kind of thing I expected this
silly, perfect guy to do. “No, it’s just right,” I said, my voice a little hoarse.
A tiny furrow formed between his brows. He stepped forward
instinctively and then stopped himself. He thrust a hand through his hair,
looking around furtively. And that just wouldn’t do. He’d gone through a lot
to be an out and proud professional athlete. We weren’t about to take a step
backward.
I closed the gap between us and his eyes widened. “What’re you—”
And then my mouth was on his. He froze for exactly two seconds before
his mouth softened against mine. I wanted to grip his hair and deepen the
kiss, but I knew I’d better not. He didn’t seem to agree. Those big hands of
his made a path down my back, the one that never failed to elicit a full-body
shiver.
I broke the kiss before he could get to my ass. The man didn’t know
how to put his hands on my ass without gripping my cheeks and lifting me
to grind on his dick, and that was the kind of shit that got you trending on
Twitter for all the wrong reasons.
When I pulled back, he followed. I quickly grabbed his hand and gave it
a hard squeeze. Undeterred, he towed me forward until my sneakers
touched his. “I want you,” he growled. “Let me have you.”
“And I will,” I hissed. “But maybe not as the afternoon entertainment?”
 He didn’t even look around, debunking my theory that he’d forgotten
where we were. His gaze was focused on me and me alone, intent on
claiming what I’d said was his with that all too public kiss. “Fuck anyone
who doesn’t like it.”
I cast a glance around, only to find that we were the focus of a lot of
curious people. Curiosity turned to speculation and a lot of chatter that I
couldn’t quite decipher. Kelly gave me a thumbs-up, a grin covering his
face so large that it could rival the Joker’s.
I knew without a mirror that my face was pink. PDA was so not my
thing. Never would be. But yeah, he was worth it. And I was tired of
pretending that was even a real fucking question.
A guy in a powder blue tracksuit positioned his phone toward us and I
knew he was taking a picture. Maybe he’d caught the whole thing on video.
Well. I planned to do what Bonnie Raitt instructed us to do, and give that
motherfucker something to talk about.
Okay, I might’ve added the motherfucker part myself. Other than that, I
followed her advice to the letter.
“Kiss me,” I said.
A smile curved his mouth as he tilted my chin with a soft touch. I didn’t
have to ask again.
I did not doubt that Ari would do his agent thing and give the go-ahead
for that article. I’d been waking up in cold sweats since I’d seen the draft of
it. But right about now, that didn’t seem to matter quite as much as the
touch of Andrew’s lips against mine. I hoped the feeling would last. And
who knows?
Maybe the fallout wouldn’t be as bad as I imagined.
29
 JESSE

I t wasn’t as bad as I imagined…mostly because my imagination would

have to be Gumby to stretch that far.
I didn’t even have Andrew with me to “take my mind off things”—and
don’t pretend you don’t know what I mean—since he had an away game.
He would be in and out of my life for the next few weeks since he had three
consecutive away games… something he’d bitched about for ten minutes
straight. Only four other teams in the whole league this season, Jess.
Fuckin’ ridiculous. If that meant he couldn’t be here with me, then I agreed
heartily.
We talked on the phone, of course, but it wasn’t the same. Like the good
boyfriend he was, he extracted a promise from me that I wouldn’t check
social media. And like the good boyfriend I strove to be, I swore I wouldn’t.
He’d left Moon Pie in my care while he was on the road, and I gave him the
promised updates.
The article went live at midnight.
I had about an hour of hope that no one would see it. That it would
quickly make its way to the who the hell cares part of the Internet. Then
someone hit the like button. A mad face reaction joined it a moment later.
I could only guess that those two people screamed the news out to the
world at large. When I came back from getting coffee, the reactions were up
in the thousands. They grew steadily as I refreshed the page. It was another
half hour before I could drum up enough courage to scan the comments
section.
Tajmahal3: I put up with the fact that he’s bisexual and shit, but why this
guy??
Bringbacktheblueprint: Shut yo dum ass up
francisco_real: learn how to spell fuckface
remybbq: Bruh. Should he even be working with kids
yogawithtammy: How did he pass a background check
joyfullife365: And you guys are so perfect? Everyone deserves a second
chance
kimmicub: And a third and a fourth, apparently
adrian_in_the_box: Like the mug shot tho.
kimmicub: Hot felon part two?

A text appeared at the top of my screen from unknown. Even as I wondered

how any of the internet warriors got my number, I tapped it with a shaky
finger. I could only hope it was someone trying to tell me I won an iPad for
free and all they needed was my banking information to ship it immediately.
Unknown: This is Ari. Stop wondering how I got your number.
I gave an unsteady laugh that sounded loud in the quiet of the room. I
was glad to hear from a friend right about now. Well…I don’t know if I’d
go that far, but he certainly wasn’t an enemy. I texted back quickly.
Me: You read minds now?
Unknown: One of my many talents.
Unknown: Stop checking the internet
Unknown: Get some rest, Fox. Tomorrow is going to be a long one.
I let out a breath and texted him a smiley face I didn’t feel. After a
moment of biting my lip, I added thanks. Then I saved his number because
it was driving me crazy to have a conversation with “unknown.”
Ari: Don’t mention it.
Ari: No, seriously. Don’t mention it. You’ll ruin my rep.
Amused, I just shook my head and wished him good night. I closed the
page and stared at the darkened screen of the phone. I’d be back. Even my
browser knew that.
By nine in the morning, we were trending on Twitter. I headed for the
shower grimly. I didn’t bother to read the comments. Or look at the memes.
Had I really done this to myself willingly? Fuck, what the hell had I been
smoking?
My phone was ringing off the hook. Reporters. People I’d forgotten.
People I meant to call back. Toxic people I’d phased out of my life and
hoped they hadn’t noticed. Everyone was back in play and ready to leave a
supportive wink-wink kind of message. Eventually, I put my phone on do
not disturb and took a long, hot shower.
After, I stood in front of my closet, a towel around my waist.
I stared into space, trying to come up with an excuse for skipping work.
I was drawing a blank. I thought about writing my boss a letter and got as
far as, Dearest Joshua, I’ve decided to become a hermit. Don’t bother to try
and find me, I’ve bricked-in my windows and the door. Quite frankly, other
than the lack of sun, I’m not sure why I didn’t do this sooner.
Then I thought about my responsibilities to the kids and the community.
It only took me a few seconds to decide no one was about to get in the way
of that. I couldn’t stop the chatter, but they weren’t about to dictate my life.
I’d worked too hard for it.
I closed out the order page for quick-drying concrete and got dressed.
I eschewed my usual jeans and t-shirt for a pair of nice slacks and my
favorite forest green, button-down shirt. It was my “meeting with a donor”
look, and I took some time to fix my hair, too. I had a feeling my look was
about to be memorialized all across the Internet, so it might as well be
something I like.
I opened the door ready to curse someone out for creeping in my
bushes, but there wasn’t a soul to be found. Thank fuck. Guess they hadn’t
sussed out my address yet. Ari had already warned me that they would.
We already had a tentative plan in place that I could stay at Andrew’s
place because at least he had security gates. Besides, I love the idea of you
being in my house, he’d said, his eyes full of something I was afraid to
define. I had a feeling the same thing was shining in my eyes and my
cheeks went pink. A glance at Ari’s face had proved it.
 Disgusting, he’d muttered, but a smile tugged at his mouth as he
scrolled through his phone.

They might have trouble finding my place, but Rainbow Harbor was
another matter entirely. Several news vans were lined up against the gate.
Clearly they were respecting the property because our gate wouldn’t hold
out a pushy squirrel. I drove through slowly, cameras flashing as I did so.
Holy fuck. I kept my head down and ignored any questions. I had too much
dignity to let them chase me into my own fucking building…but I did set a
new world record for speed-walking.
No one was in the front and I sighed with relief.
I walked through the office quietly, debating on whether I should brave
the breakroom for coffee. I reviewed how my day was going. Then I
shivered at the thought of confronting the rest of it caffeine-less. Even the
haters out for my blood wouldn’t want such a tragic end for me, would
they?
Ok, maybe they would, but fuck that noise.
Joshua’s office was dark when I passed. Yet another bright spot. I
wasn’t ready to deal with what he had to say just yet. Not that I thought he
wouldn’t be supportive. But if supporting me got in the way of his baby, his
creation that the community so desperately needed, I knew what he’d
choose. I wouldn’t respect him if he chose differently. But it would crush
me. Plain and simple.
I could hear Teddy and Van talking in the supply closet. They both
sounded more agitated than usual. I stood in the hall, straightening a poster
at the speed of slow as Teddy fumed about some guy he’d had to oust from
the building. Teddy was about as big and burly as his name implied, but his
attitude was more of the stuffed bear variety. Usually.
My eyes widened when he got to the part about tossing the intruder in
the bushes. Apparently, one of the parents had stormed in and caused a
ruckus. I had a feeling what the topic of choice had been.
I grimaced and booked it for the break room.
 Wonder of wonders, the coffee pot was full. Probably because the staff
had been too busy getting mobbed and acting as bouncers to bother with
something as mundane as coffee. I got lost in the routine of making a cup,
pretending it was a normal day. Cream. Sugar. Sip.
Normal.
I polished off the entire cup before my shoulders started to drop from
my ears, and I headed for my office. I almost made it unnoticed. Around the
halfway point, someone barreled out of the art room and tackled me like a
linebacker. It took me a moment to realize my attacker was Molly, her arms
tight around my middle. I stood there, stunned, wrapped in a perfume-
scented embrace.
Damn. Andrew had been going on and on about this very thing last
week. He’d been sprawled on my living room floor watching game film on
his laptop, complaining about a dirty hit. Around the fifth time he’d
replayed the tackle, I tuned him out. To be fair, I was occupied sorting bills
into piles of pay in full, pay in part, and try to convince them you’re dead
but your ghost still needs utilities.
Maybe I should’ve listened to his rambling about watching your
blindside. I’d gotten taken down by a grandma who barely came up to my
neck.
“There, there,” Molly said.
“Er,” I tried.
Fed up with me standing there like a mannequin, Molly pressed my face
into her breasts. “Isn’t that so much better?”
No, breathing was better. Breathing was awesome. I managed to get free
after a bit of snuffling in her sweater and spat out bits of lint like an
offended cat. “Uh, Molly?”
“You dear boy,” she said as she pressed my head back down. “It
must’ve been terrible to carry such heavy secrets.”
“It’s okay,” I mumbled awkwardly trying to find room for my nose
without molesting her person.
“It’s not okay,” she cried. “You should’ve told me.”
“That I’m a criminal?” I asked dryly.
That only reminded me of the people still digging through my
checkered past and I stopped trying to find air holes to breathe. Death by
cardigan would be an upgrade.
 “Your childhood was terrible,” she said. “The things I read—”
“I had a shitty childhood but so did a lot of people,” I said, muffled. “I
made some crap decisions and now the whole world knows it. End of
story.”
“Don’t talk about yourself that way,” she said sharply. “You’re still my
Jesse just like you’ve always been. That’s the end of the story.”
“Thanks,” I said with a gasp as she finally let me free. Air. Precious air.
“I wish everyone was as open-minded.”
“Well, if anyone has a problem with that, you make sure and send them
my way,” she said sweetly with a smile that wasn’t the least bit nice.
I shivered. They would rue the day. “Love you, Molls. Even though you
tried to murder me with a sweater.”
“If you really loved me, you’d help me out.”
“Anything,” I said promptly.
I spotted Teddy down the hall, carrying a box of art supplies, and gave
him a wave. Molly edged closer, sending me a crafty look. “Do you love
someone else by any chance?”
It was a few seconds before I caught on. I narrowed my eyes. “Molly.”
“You said you loved me.”
I sighed even as I gave her a begrudging nod. “Yes. There is someone
else who shall not be named that I love.”
“Just to be sure, does this person play football?”
“He does,” I said grimly.
“Good for you. So happy for you,” she said, beaming, right before she
yelled, “gimme my money, bitches. I won the pool.”
I glared. I should’ve held out at least another two days.
Camilla stuck her head out of her office door. “No fair, I had tomorrow.”
Teddy slapped me on the back when he got close enough. “I had last
month, so all I can say is congrats.”
They headed for the rec room, continuing to bicker. My hands tightened
on my coffee mug. They didn’t care. I huffed out a little relieved laugh.
They knew who I was and what I’d done and I was still dependable Jesse.
Time to act like dependable Jesse, not someone standing here with his
thumb up his ass, paralyzed by the opinions of people who didn’t even
matter.
I headed for my office.
30
 JESSE

T he next week was more of the same, and the few days I had with
Andrew before he had to leave again just weren’t enough. The scrutiny
increased when the Outlaws pulled out a win by one field goal in the fourth
quarter. The reporters were back outside of the center and each one had
brought a friend. I ignored them as I drove again carefully through the
throng. I didn’t want mug shot number five to be for running someone over.
I heard the screech of camera equipment on my bumper from someone who
apparently couldn’t gauge distance and rethought my “no vehicular
manslaughter” policy.
Ari had warned me to strap on my boots. That we’d have to endure a
couple of weeks of media. He neglected to tell me that a troop of turtles
would be setting the pace.
But people would move on. As a whole, they had short memories. There
was always a new scandal, and we’d be old news. I tried not to be a bad
person and wish for someone else’s misfortune. I truly did. But someone
having a wardrobe malfunction would be nice right about now. A secret
love child would be fucking amazing.
Other than asking a few questions, the kids had already lost interest. I
sent up a prayer of thanks for typical teenage self-absorption. I did my
damnedest to keep things as normal as possible and for the most part, I
succeeded. However, a few parents had stopped in to pick up their kids,
informing me loudly that they wouldn’t be returning.
 I listened to their speeches with my arms folded and a placid expression
on my face. I deserved a cookie for not telling them that this wasn’t an
airport and there was no need to announce their departure. Instead, I gave
them the flyer of a nearby boys and girls club. It wasn’t LGBTQ+ oriented,
but I wanted the kids to have a place to go. That was the point. And if they
came back on their own, I wasn’t going to turn them away, parent approval
or not.
Around noon, a familiar face appeared in my doorway, and I stared at
him for a few seconds before my brain kicked on. He’d filled out a little
more since the last time I’d seen him and his hair was a little shorter and
grayer. “Dad?”
He grinned, his smile a little nervous. “Hey, Jesse. Long time, no see.”
I had my mother’s coloring and features, but the familial resemblance
was there if you looked hard enough. Something about the way we walked
and our mannerisms. Considering how little we’d seen each other in the
past twenty years, that was nothing short of remarkable.
Sometimes I thought that was why it was so easy for my mother to
throw me away. I’d often found her looking at me quietly, her green eyes—
my eyes—troubled. She’d walk off, but not before muttering something
about genetics having the last laugh.
“Your beard is gray,” I blurted.
The last time I’d seen him, it was salt and pepper at best. I did another
head-to-toe survey, a certain lightness blooming in my chest. I missed you.
Even with all of his flaws and everything he’d done, that remained a simple
truth.
“That's the first thing you noticed?” His eyes creased with a smile so
familiar that it took my breath away. “I was in town on business and I
thought I’d drop by.”
“I’m glad you did. It’s so good to see you.”
“Is it?”
There was something behind those friendly eyes that I couldn’t quite get
a read on. Nothing new about that—I never could. “What’s that supposed to
mean?”
“You never come to visit, Jamie.”
“I’ve been…busy,” I said awkwardly. “And I don’t go by Jamison
anymore.”
 “Right, sorry. Jesse.” He smiled ruefully. “And I guess visiting goes
both ways. I’ve missed talking to you.”
Standoffish Jesse worked for everybody else. Not so much with my
father. I was still angry at him for things that happened in the past, yes. but
familial ties could be stronger than titanium. Right about now, those ties
were winding their way around my heart. Watching Andrew deal with the
loss of his father only made me grateful that I still had mine.
I stood, feeling the press of tears behind my eyes. I took a step and he
took a step…and before I knew it, he was hugging me tightly. “It’s going to
be okay,” he murmured in my hair.
You’d think so.
“Yeah,” I said, my voice a little rough. “I hope so.”
He held me for another minute before he patted my back. “Hey, I have
an idea. Let’s have lunch and catch up, yeah?”
I cast a glance back at my desk, covered in paperwork. “Um….”
“Come on,” he cajoled. “You don’t have an hour for your dear old Dad?
I came all the way from Buffalo.”
I chuckled. “Well, when you put it that way, lunch is on me.”

I took him to Spice, one of my favorite diners. It was only ten minutes from
the center, but I took the long way, showing him around some of my
favorite spots. I felt like a little kid at show and tell. I couldn’t help it. I
hadn’t seen him in so long.
Before I knew it, an hour had passed. I briefly thought about work
before I said screw it. My dad didn’t come to town every day of the week.
And we’d never connected quite like this. I showed him the park where I
ate my lunch sometimes and my favorite bookstore/café. He was
enthusiastic and attentive, and I soaked the attention up like a sponge in the
desert. I drove past the community mural, pointing out the parts my kids
had painted to represent the harbor, and his stomach rumbled.
He patted it with a grin. “Looks like the old stomach isn’t quite the art
aficionado that we are, Jaim—Jess.”
 I chuckled as I made a quick left and headed for the diner. “You’re
going to love their burgers. Do you still eat them all but raw?”
“Rare,” he mock-scolded. “Any other way is criminal.”
Spice was a hole in the wall, but the food was great and inexpensive.
Management was gruff with customers, which usually got on my nerves. I
was grateful for it now, though. I couldn’t see any reporter giving me a hard
time…at least, not without getting tossed out on his ear. We ordered burgers
and fries, and the waitress delivered our food in a jiff.
“So how are things going, Jami—Jess?” My dad asked as he got busy
with the salt and pepper shakers. “I know things are pretty crazy right about
now.”
“You can say that again,” I said around a mouthful of burger. “I knew it
would be this way…well, not exactly this bad. But things will die down.
Hopefully.”
“And McAdams? How’s he dealing with this?”
“He has the good sense to be elsewhere,” I said with a little grin, and he
chuckled. “His schedule has been so busy that I’ve barely seen him. Three
consecutive road games. Apparently, that’s pretty rare?”
He barked out a laugh. “Yeah, you could say that. I think it’s time for
you to brush up on the rules of the game, Jamison. Jesse. Fuck.” He sent me
a wry smile. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”
Not for anyone who knew me. That only highlighted how long it had
been since he’d had any meaningful presence in my life. But like he’d said,
the phone worked both ways.
I’d been Jesse since Joshua patched me up in his kitchen. My last
encounter with a john was a bad one—he’d been a violent man who left
bruises on me both visible and not.
As Joshua pressed a bag of frozen peas to my eye, he quietly asked all
the right questions. Do you want to file a police report? Do you want to go
to the hospital? And most of all, are you okay? The answer to all his
questions? No. Especially the last one.
I took the bag of peas—snatched them, really—and held them in my
hand. Squeezed them until the bag tore and tiny smushed peas spilled out on
the pristine gray counter. “I don’t want to go to the fucking hospital, Knox.
But I sure am tired of being Jamison Foxhill.”
“I can imagine.”
 I stared at him in disbelief. “That’s all you have to say? You can
imagine?”
“What else do you want me to say? You don’t have to be Jamison. You
can be anyone you want to be.”
I tossed the peas in the sink and angrily brushed off my hands. “That’s a
load of fanciful bullshit.”
“Is it? You’ve been with me for a month now, and you won’t leave the
past behind. I’m trying to give you a new start.” His smile carried a wealth
of sadness. “Maybe now you’re ready to take it.”
I’d blinked at him, wondering at the simplicity of his response. That I
never had to be Jamison again. A week later, I was Jesse Fox. And that was
just that.
Except for my father, who proceeded to call me Jamison four more
times throughout lunch. When the check came, he couldn’t go to the
bathroom quickly enough. I shook my head wryly because some things
never changed. I pulled out my wallet and checked to see if I had any cash.
Ding.
Maybe he was a little sketchy, yes. But for the first time, the
conversation seemed centered on me—the current me. Not the me he
remembered before he’d taken off to be with his new family. He’d asked a
lot of questions about Andrew—maybe too many, but he was a football nut,
so I could deal.
He was trying. And for that, I could deal with a few aborted mentions of
my old name.
Ding.
I frowned as I glanced at my phone, and then realized the sound was
coming from across the table. No, under the table. I peered under the table
and looked around on the floor…then the booth seat, where I found my
father’s phone. I frowned at it for a few seconds, thinking. And then I
reached over and picked it up.
The recording app was on. The timer ticked away at an hour and forty-
five minutes and counting. There were also two missed texts on the screen.
DMann: Did you get anything yet
DMann: I paid you, Foxhill. Get me something
DMann? Why did that sound so familiar? It took me a few moments,
but I finally connected the dots. Dylan Mann, the gossip columnist. He’d
left me three messages on my phone before I blocked the number, and two
down at the center.
Kelly’s words drifted through my head again. You’ll have to talk to the
people in your life. The ones your work with. Your family members.
Unfortunately, you’re about to find out who can be bought.
It was hard to believe. My dad had his shifty ways, but he was still the
guy who’d taught me how to ride a bike. The guy who’d shielded me from
the worst of my mother’s temper when he was home and built me a
skateboard ramp in the backyard. That guy? He was trying to set me up? To
get a sound bite about something private to sell to the highest bidder?
I guess things—and people—changed.
I pressed the red button and the recording stopped. Then I deleted it
before I put the phone on the table with a decisive click.
I picked up my wallet and pulled out a bill large enough to cover both
our meals, then stuck it under the salt and pepper shakers. As I walked past
the cash register, a waitress glanced my way. “How was your meal?”
“Enlightening,” was all I said before I headed out the door.
I made it to the car and got in, my hands shaking on the steering wheel.
My phone lit up with a call, and I could only hope it was Andrew. I would
fucking love to hear his voice right about now. Instead, I saw the name
Ballbuster.
“Even prisoners get lunch,” I said by way of hello. Joshua hadn’t been
to the center in three days and I wasn’t in the mood for his shit. “I’m on my
way.”
“I just left a meeting with Schwartz,” he said, sounding distracted. “I
need to speak to you when I get back.”
An impromptu meeting with our biggest donor? I swallowed. I could
only imagine how that went. And then the rest of his words filtered in.
“Back? Where are you headed?”
“I got a call from Dale, and I have to make a quick trip up to Delaware.”
“Something wrong?”
“Nothing that bad. He and George said they have something they need
to tell me in person, and I can’t wait. You know how bad I am with
surprises.” He paused as a mechanical voice announced something in the
background and then came back on, sounding a little harried. “Okay, I gotta
go.”
 “But—”
“Call you later. Promise.”
He hung up before I could say goodbye, but I said it anyway.
I stared out the windshield as I wondered if the center could survive
without the annual Schwartz donation. Schwartz’s son had committed
suicide because of bullying five years ago, and he’d been a staunch
supporter ever since. But there were a lot of needy, deserving places that
could use his money. Places that didn’t have a formerly sticky-fingered
coordinator at the helm.
Fuck.
I stayed until I saw my dad come barreling out of the restaurant, looking
both ways. Clearly, he’d forgotten where we parked, and I was glad when
he started walking in the opposite direction. I waited until he turned the
corner to drive off, and texted Molly not to let him back through the center
gates. I swallowed down another life lesson.
Sometimes the past should remain just that.
31
 JESSE

I ’d never been so glad to see the end of a week.

The reporters had died down around the center, just like Ari
promised. Other news. New people to crucify. Now I just had to deal with
the consequences of having my life splashed all over the media for an entire
week.
On the way home, I risked a visit to the grocery store. My thought
process was simple—I could be in and out faster than I could make an
Instacart order. Two minutes in, I wished I hadn’t. I got recognized
twice even before I made it through the produce section. To be fair, they
didn’t seem hostile. Just nosy. Nosy I could handle.
In the checkout line, I absently looked at the magazine rack and froze to
see a tiny picture of my face. Dark Past for Humanitarian? I comforted
myself that it was just a local paper—barely better than a circular most
people lined bird cages with. There was also a picture of Andrew and me—
the one from our soccer game—in some trashy gossip rag whose main
bread and butter seemed to be pondering the existence of aliens. The byline
questioned if I should be working so closely with kids.
I’d like to say I just walked past. That I got my ham and cheese, organic
strawberries, and Moon Drop grapes and went about my business. Instead, I
bought a copy of each. As the clerk rang them up, she squinted at the cover
of the splashiest one. “Hey, isn’t that—”
“No,” I said, sticking my debit card in the machine.
 I remotely started the car before I even left the store and hustled for
Andrew’s SUV. I tossed my groceries in the back and got in, knuckling the
door lock immediately. I was glad I’d caved to his request that I use his
vehicle. Getting stuck somewhere in my temperamental Plymouth would
really cap off this sucktastic day.
Just thinking about my Plymouth made me think about my dad, who’d
called me twice since our lunch. I needed to look for a new car. Something
nice and reliable. I was ready to close the door on the past and make some
new memories.
I let my head thunk back against the headrest. I sat there for a few
minutes, my eyes closed. I couldn’t stay long because the SUV wasn’t
exactly low-key. Someone who shall remain nameless had thought it was a
good idea to get plates that read OUTLAW1.
I expected to miss being just Jesse Fox, the slightly boring but
dependable coordinator, who quietly did good work in the community.
I just didn’t expect to miss it this quickly.

By the time I pulled up to my small bungalow, I was ready to crash. I sat in

the car for a few minutes, letting a song I liked play out, while I thought
about all the obstacles between me and going to bed. There was still dinner
to make, a sink full of dishes to clean, and I was pretty sure I didn’t have
anything clean to wear tomorrow.
I wanted to embrace my inner slacker. I wanted to stuff my face, watch
something mindless, and fall asleep on the couch…and that was just what
the hell I was going to do. It suddenly became a lot easier to get out of the
car.
I didn’t bother to fix the beautiful sandwich I’d imagined when I zipped
through the supermarket. Instead, I made a couple of ham and cheese roll-
ups and dipped them in mustard. I finished my haute cuisine with a handful
of grapes and lay on the couch as if dead, an arm across my face. The
friendly light of the TV flickered in the darkened room, but I didn’t have
the energy to watch. I was also too wired to go to sleep.
 My phone rang and I groaned as I glanced at the screen. Sweet Jesus
was calling, and it wasn’t a holy call. I liked to save people in my contacts
the way they made me feel, and damned if I didn’t say that phrase every
time I spoke to Trace King.
I answered and got that shit out of the way immediately. “Sweet Jesus,
what is it now?”
“Good to hear your voice, Jesse. Or should I say Jamison?” His voice
was still deep and smoother than honey. Didn’t seem to affect my knees the
same way anymore, though. “I’m guessing that’s a no to all my repeated
attempts to woo you back.”
“Oh, is that what they were?”
“I don’t buy flowers for just anyone.”
“No?” I flopped back on the couch, closing my eyes yet again. “How’s
the wife, King?”
He chuckled. “Always giving me a hard time, huh? Some things never
change.”
“I don’t even have the energy to give you the time of day,” I said tiredly.
“It’s been a rough one.”
“So I’ve heard.” He made a noise of derision. “It’s kind of ironic, isn’t
it? Usually, it would be the player taking heat for being in a relationship
with a man. But since he got ahead of it and came out a few years ago, the
heat is all on you because of your past.”
“Yes, yes, irony is a beautiful thing. Anything else? I’m pretty sure
there’s a reporter in my azaleas, and I want to turn on the sprinklers.”
“I called because I thought you could use a friend.”
I was quiet for a moment as I thought about that. My mantra to leave the
past in the past had never seemed wiser. We’d been lovers and boyfriends…
sometimes more and sometimes less, but friendship? I wasn’t sure we ever
had that.
“Okay,” he said slowly when I didn’t speak. “Then I’m calling as
someone who’s about to take some of the heat off of you.”
“Meaning?”
“Helena and I are getting a divorce.”
I didn’t have the energy to whip up the big emotion he seemed to be
waiting for. “Good for you, I guess. Whatever floats your boat.”
 “You’ve inspired me, Jess. You and that idiot boyfriend of yours.” His
tone was wry. “By the way, you should really tell him to work on that
temper of his. Years of taking criticism straight to the face for being
bisexual in the NFL? Nothing. A few words about you and he’s flying off
the handle like a nutjob. He’ll be lucky if that reporter doesn’t sue.”
My eyes flew open. That had my blood pressure spiking in a hurry.
“What are you talking about?”
“I guess you don’t watch Sports Beat, do you?”
“Not since my face was on it, no.”
“Let’s just say a reporter got slick at the mouth and he was very lucky
your boyfriend’s teammates were there to separate them.”
I pressed my fingers to my temples. That was just fantastic. “Thanks
ever so much,” I said. “My day was already shit before I knew that.”
“I told you. I’m working on it.”
“Why now?”
“Well, it’s certainly not because I wanted to. ’Lena came home early
and caught me in… a delicate situation with the manny.”
“Trace,” I said, my voice laced with disapproval. “Your babysitter?”
“Manny,” he snapped. “And he’s twenty-seven. Around the same age as
your boy toy.”
I huffed. It was all too easy to forget that ten-year gap. I planned to keep
that forgetful shit going. “No wonder your wife wants a divorce.”
“Actually, she wants me dead,” he said grimly. “She’ll settle for the
divorce, taking half my shit, and ruining me publicly.”
“I’m sorry,” I finally offered.
I was surprised to find that I meant it. True enough, he’d created this
shit-fest himself. He’d also hurt someone he was supposed to love…or at
the very least, care about. But coming out in this manner wasn’t going to be
fun. Or easy.
He blew out a breath, and I wondered if his mind was going over the
same rough territory I’d ventured onto. “Maybe it’ll be a nice change. To
live life my way, you know?”
“I hope it is. Some things are worth it.”
“You still feel that way?” He sounded strangely vulnerable, miles apart
from the worldly NFL player who always thought I was a little too naive.
 My phone lit up with a call and the screen flashed with Andrew’s name.
I smiled, which was a minor miracle considering the day I’d had. “Yeah. I
do. Look I’ve got another call.”
“Yeah, go ahead. Don’t be a stranger.”
I already knew I wouldn’t initiate a call with him. But if he ever called
again, I’d probably answer. I was a little short on friends right about now.
He was about to be, too.
“See you.” I clicked over and answered before the call disappeared.
“Hey.”
“Hey, sweetheart.”
God, it was good to hear the warmth in his voice. The day didn’t fall
away just like that but things had taken a definite upswing. I’m so
completely gone for you.
“I’m guessing your day has been as long as mine,” I said, grabbing the
remote. I started flicking through the channels. I needed something quick
and mindless that could push me over into dreamland.
“Your powers of deduction are amazing,” he said with a chuckle. “How
were things at the center?”
“Fine. The staff and the kids have been clutch. I don’t know why I
expected anything different.”
“Because you’re my sour patch kid,” he said with a yawn. “Don’t ever
change.”
I laughed. “How was practice?”
“Not bad. We’ve been watching game film for the Raptors, and it seems
like physicality is their only weapon this season.”
I navigated past a couple of reality shows. “Which means?”
“We’re ready for the heat.”
Good Lord. The man had no sense of self-preservation. “Just don’t get
injured, yeah?”
“That’s always the plan.” He still sounded a little too amped about being
ready for the heat or whatever. “What are you up to?”
“Watching TV.” I landed on a channel showing a clip of a familiar face
and sighed. “Do I want to know why there’s footage of you brawling on
ESPN?”
“You do not.” He sounded entirely too cheerful considering onscreen
Andrew was in someone’s face. The guy wasn’t quite as tall or big, but he
was no slouch. It took several players to break them up. “Do I want to know
why your father gave a short interview to TMZ?”
“You do not,” I said as I continued to flick through channels.
I finally settled on a show about whales that slotted into the category of
interesting but not too interesting and tossed the remote on the coffee table.
Andrew yawned again and triggered my own. My eyes watered as I
snuggled into the couch.
“I should be back in a few days,” he said. “Will you wait for me at my
place?”
“What’s wrong with my place?”
“Your security is shit and your bed is sub-par.”
“I got it on Amazon,” I said with a sleepy grin. He was a bed snob and
he needed to know that. “Nothing but five-star reviews. It cost me less than
three hundred bucks.”
“Jesse.” He sounded horrified. “No wonder.”
“It’s a nice bed.”
“It’s very small.”
“No, you’re just very big,” I murmured.
“I rolled off that one time. You remember when you were snickering,
and it wasn’t the least bit funny?”
“I only laughed because you were fine,” I said patiently.
“I hit my head on the nightstand.”
“Yeah, but did you die?”
He laughed. “Fuck you.”
On the nature show, the mother whale was leading her group of students
to shore and encouraging them to breach themselves. An oceanographer
with wild, wind-blown curls told us in a hushed voice that the mother was
teaching them a risky technique they used to get seals lounging on the sand.
I shook my head even as my eyes slid shut. “Those baby whales need
child protective services.”
“What?”
“If we don’t call, who will?”
“Wow.” Andrew sounded amused. “I don’t know if anyone has ever told
you this before, but you get loopy when you’re sleepy.”
“Maybe. Miss you,” I told the throw pillow under my cheek. “Wish you
were here.”
 He was quiet for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was gruff.
“I will be. As soon as humanly possible.”
“Love you.” I wondered what those whales were up to but I couldn’t be
pressed to open my heavy eyelids. “More than I knew was possible.”
“Jess?”
Andrew’s voice startled me. I hadn’t even realized I was still on the
phone. “Hmm?”
“I’m going to let you get some rest.”
“K.”
“And I’m going to need you to repeat all the things you said tonight in
person.”
“Why’s that?” My voice sounded strange and slurred even to my own
ears. I tried again and tried to enunciate. “What’d I say?”
He chuckled. “Get some rest, sweetheart.”
Now that I could do. I drifted to sleep without hanging up the phone,
thinking I could handle more days like this one, as long as it ended with me
being his sweetheart.
32
 JESSE

T he end of the week brought good news and bad. Andrew played his last
away game, which was great. I’d watched the game on Grant’s big
screen with his wife and mother sitting on either side of me. There was a lot
of popcorn, wings, beer…and yelling. Lots of yelling. A ref made a bad call
in the third quarter and I thought Kim might throw her shoe at the screen.
Grant calmly plucked the sandal from her hand and slipped it back on her
foot, never losing his grip on his beer.
It was nice that they’d included me. Like I belonged or something.
When I struggled to verbalize my gratitude for the invite, they’d looked at
me as though I’d grown two heads.
“You’re family now,” Grant said, clapping me on the back. “Where the
hell else would you be?”
So yeah.
The Outlaws won two out of the three away games, which was great.
Joshua was back and wanted to see me first thing Monday, which was not.
He still hadn’t mentioned the status of the Schwartz donation, but I could
see the writing on the wall. Why did people care so much about who I’d
been anyway? Or what I’d done so very long ago? What about all the good
things I’d done? The kids that I’d helped?
By the time I finally stormed into his office, I’d worked myself into
quite a lather. I yanked open his door and we both jumped a little as it hit
the opposing wall with a bang. Oops.
 “Sorry about that,” I said. “But if no one else, you should be on my
side.”
His mouth fell open. “What?”
“I’ll leave if that’s what you want. The center is more important. But
after everything I’ve done, I’d like to think—”
“Leave?” He was confusion personified. “Okay, maybe we should back
this train up to the station for a few seconds. It looks like you left a few
passengers. And your brain.”
I glared. “I’m not in the mood, Knox.”
“Well, clearly you’ve lost the plot if you think I would ever fire you.”
He gave me a look of wonder. “What are you smoking?”
“You’re not…you didn’t call me in here to….” I cleared my throat.
“What?”
“If you don’t mind, I’d like to start this meeting over. Unless you’d like
to accuse me of something else first?”
“Sorry.” I flopped in one of his rickety guest chairs, rubbing my eye
sockets with my palms until I saw stars. “It’s been a long damn day. Week.
Month. Life?”
He chuckled. “Okay, well, let’s just set this to rest for good. The day I
let you go is the day you can put me in a coffin and throw some dirt on top.
Jess.” When I met his eyes, they were full of warmth. “You’re the only
reason any of this works.”
“Oh.” I knew my cheeks had to be pink, and he confirmed that with his
soft laugh. “You think I’m wasting money on a coffin for you? You get a
box like a treasured family guinea pig, and you’ll be happy about it.”
He barked out a laugh. “Fuck you, Fox.”
I sat back in my chair, enjoying a little bit of normalcy. I could almost
pretend that nothing had changed and I was still the Jesse Fox who could go
the grocery store without a hat and shades to shop for fruit in peace.
“Why did you want to see me, then?”
“Other than the fact that I always want to see you?” He chided. “I have
good news. Bad news. Then good news again.”
“Hit me,” I said grimly. I didn’t specify which I wanted first, but Joshua
should know me well enough by now—salt, then pour some sugar on me.
“We lost the Schwartz donation.”
 I processed that quietly. Even though I’d expected it, the news was still
a blow to the stomach. It was a moment before I could lift my gaze to meet
his. “Should I even ask?”
“He has other projects he’d like to give some time and attention to,” he
said carefully.
I gave a bitter laugh. Jeffrey Schwartz may be short on a lot of things,
but money wasn’t one of them. “Hit me with some sugar, Knox.”
“Dale and George are having another kid.”
His proud little smile triggered my own. “Holy shit. Congratulations.
You’re going to be a grandpop two times over.”
“Better than that. He said he wished that we lived closer. He also thinks
it would be easier to work on us if he didn’t live damn near across the
country, and I agree. We could reestablish our relationship on a healthier
foundation, you know? Dinner on the weekends. Holidays, maybe. And if
he’s not ready to have holidays together, I could at least drop by. I could
even watch the kids sometimes….”
He all but had stars in his eyes and my smile grew. If anyone deserved
it, Joshua did.
“So he’s moving here? That’s amazing.”
I frowned when he didn’t respond. That steady expression was trying to
tell me something. He looked like…like he was waiting for me to catch up.
And then I did. A pang in my chest offered the sour feeling in my stomach
some company. Surely I was coming to all the wrong conclusions.
“You can’t be serious.”
“Jesse.”
“You have a life here. People who count on you. What about the
center?” The pang in my chest grew ocean sized. “What about the kids?
Your house?”
What about me?
And to think I’d been kind of glad the day had started shitty. In my
naivete, I thought that meant it could only go up. Turns out I’d been in the
intermission, enjoying an overpriced scotch in the lobby. Now it was time
to head back into the theater for an even shittier second half.
“Jesse,” he said again, firmly “I can’t pass up this opportunity.”
“I would never ask you to. But what if he’s not as open to this reunion
as you hope?” I asked quietly.
 I felt like an asshole even saying such a thing. But no matter what, I
would always look out for Joshua Knox. Even when he pulled the rug out
from under me without so much as a howdy do.
“Then I'll deal with it,” he said calmly, and I felt like an idiot. Of course
he'd thought of that. “One day at a time, Jess. That's all we can do.”
“I guess,” I murmured. “I’m not sure how we’re going to manage
without you. Who's going to run this place? Who’s going to make sure that
we’re on track?”
His mouth quirked as he gestured for me to get up. When I didn’t move
a muscle, he made the gesture again. “Get your ass up, Fox.”
“I’m comfortable,” I said with a scowl. “And quite frankly, I'm not in
the mood for any of your fucking trust exercises. Last time we did that fall
into my arms bullshit at that retreat, you stumbled.”
“I had you,” he maintained. “Your shirt was slippery.”
“It was cotton, for crying out loud. Just admit it. Your inner core is
practically fondue.”
He laughed. “Up. Now, Jesse.”
I got up, grumbling the whole while as he beckoned me over to his side
of the desk. I felt all kinds of petulant because he was mine, not Dale’s, and
he was leaving.
“Well?” I prodded when he didn't speak.
He stood and gestured at his chair. “Have a seat.”
My eyes went wide. I was already shaking my head no as he nodded
yes. “Me?”
“Who else?”
I ran a hand through my hair, mussing it even worse than usual. “Yeah,
maybe before all of the crap that happened in the media. But I can’t be the
face of this place now. We might lose more donors. People might stop their
kids from coming here. I just don’t see how—”
“Jesse?”
I blinked at him because I wasn’t finished listing everything that could
and would go wrong. That was kind of my specialty and I would not be
deterred. “What?”
“Shut up.”
He guided me by my shoulders over to his chair. I had no choice but to
sit. It was either that or let him kick the back of my knees, which we both
knew he could and would do. I settled into the divot he'd left with his much
larger body. It felt like a warm hug. I looked up at Joshua’s face, soft with
something I wasn’t about to define.
“I didn't think you needed to hear this. But since you're an idiot and you
do, I'll waste some of the precious breath I have left on this earth and spell it
out for you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “You’ll outlive us all, you old bastard—”
“There is no one, and I mean no one, that I trust more in this world.”
“I know you trust me with the center, Josh,” I said impatiently. “That’s
not the question—”
“I didn’t specify with the center. You did.”
He waited for me to absorb that. My eyes pricked a little as I felt the
burn of tears. I'd wanted to know what Andrew felt in that picture with his
father that he’d posted online, the one of them on draft day, mutual trust and
pride shining in their eyes like a tangible thing. Now I knew.
“I trust you, too,” I finally said when I could speak without losing it.
“Good. Because I don’t care what anyone else has to say about it. This
center is just as much yours as it is mine. And I want you to be the face of
it.” His voice was calm and clear as he went on, tearing me apart and
putting me back together brick by brick. “We don't need someone perfect
who's never had to struggle for anything in their whole life. We need
someone who's been there and done that. Someone who had to make the
hard choices he never thought he’d make and someone who still came out
on the other side.”
Fuck, if he made me cry, he wasn't going to need a moving van. I was
going to slingshot his ass to Delaware.
“That’s why the kids respond to you the way they do,” he went on.
“You’re not just giving them platitudes. They see you and realize what they
could be if they just keep pushing and veering around every obstacle
determined to pop up in their path.”
“We may lose donors,” I said quietly. “Like Schwartz.”
“Fuck ’em. We'll get others. Better ones.”
“You’re starting to sound like Molly.”
He looked alarmed. “Thank fuck I'm getting out of here then. I’m too
old to be saddled with relentless optimism.”
 I laughed and it sounded a little waterlogged. But I was not crying. I
wasn't. Annoyed, I gave my watery eyes a swipe. I wasn’t the best with
change—I’d admit that. All the changes early on in my life had been bad,
and somehow the correlation had stuck.
But change had brought me Joshua Knox. It had brought me purpose in
helping kids going through the same shit I’d gone through. And it had
brought me the love of my life. So maybe that fucker wasn’t so bad after
all.
“You look good in that seat,” Joshua said, folding his arms. “How does
it feel?”
“Feels right.”
“Good.” He nodded. “Now get your ass out of my chair. You're not the
director yet.”
I did, grousing the entire time. My chair wasn't nearly as comfortable.
“First order of business when I’m in charge is to create an employee guide
on how to speak to each other.”
He waved me out of his office. “And good luck with that.”
33
 ANDREW

T he flight home was long.

The moment I stretched out my legs next to Everett, he kicked my
dress shoes. I kicked him back even as I retreated to my space. My suit was
uncomfortable, and I wondered why it was so important that we get dressed
to the nines after an away game.
I was ready for sweats and sneakers and depending on how messy my
hair got, maybe a ballcap. I was ready for the comfort of my bed. And some
food that wasn’t healthy and protein packed. I wanted to eat something so
sinfully grease laden, that I wouldn’t be able to look my trainer in the eye
ever again.
The good vibes from winning two of our three away games had faded.
Like the machine he was, Vaughn had already mentally moved on to the
next game. When I walked by his seat, he was watching highlight reels of
the Titans and busily taking notes. He waved for me to join him. I pretended
not to see as I hustled to the bathroom.
Coach was doing his usual we could’ve done better and on Monday I’ll
show you how spiel. No one was paying him or our team captain any mind.
The general mood on the plane was “over it and antsy to get back.”
It was hard to believe I’d ever doubted coming back to football. I’d
missed so much about the game, both major and minor. The turf under my
cleats, the ball secure in my hands, that excitement thrumming in my body
before every snap of the ball. I’d missed the camaraderie of my teammates,
my brothers. Over these past few weeks, they’d gone out of their way to let
me know they were behind me and Jesse a thousand percent.
My mouth quirked as I stared out at the darkening sky. Maybe too
behind us in their usual overexuberant, eager puppy way. I could barely
keep them from bombarding poor Jesse with their support. I knew I
wouldn’t be able to keep them off him for long. They were ready to support
the fuck out of him.
Everett slid his wireless headphones around his neck and stretched,
bumping me a few times. I sighed. From traveling with him on numerous
occasions, I knew that he liked to spend the final hour or so complaining. It
was his thing. It was also why I usually pretended to be asleep until the
seatbelt light went off.
“Thank God we’re almost home,” he groused. “I’m so sick of travel
right now.”
I nodded. I hoped we wouldn’t draw the short straw again next season.
Away games were rough. You were away from your family and friends, and
the travel always took a toll. It also sucked when the crowd hated your guts
before you took the field.
I used the hate as fuel. You either give us the win or we can take that
shit. No amount of booing or jeering was going to change that. But I
couldn’t deny that I fed off the crowd’s energy. And I loved looking up in
the stands to a sea of blue and silver.
Next game. I grinned to myself tiredly. Maybe I could even convince
Jesse to come. Talk about fuel. That ought to give me enough to light up the
whole stadium.
I gave Everett a nudge. “You think I can catch a ride with you? I don’t
feel like calling an Uber.”
“Are you seriously asking me that shit?” He snorted. “I’d give you a
ride to Jupiter as long as you paid for the rocket fuel.”
I laughed. “And that is why you’re in my will.”
“You’re too damn healthy. I’ll never collect unless I do something
unspeakable.” He gave me a look of mock despair and sighed. “Anyway, I
already sent a text to Erin. She should be headed this way.”
I swallowed a groan. I liked Everett’s girlfriend, but she was chronically
late for everything. When she was in the kitchen, she was a drill sergeant
and timing was everything. Outside of her domain, time became a fallacy.
Everett had taken to telling her things started thirty minutes before they did,
just so they could be on time.
“You told her we’d be early, right?” I asked.
He gave me his best who’re you tellin’ look. “I told her we landed an
hour ago.”
I laughed. “And she’s just leaving now?”
“Hey. That’s my girl,” he said, his voice laced with fondness and
exasperation. “Time is pretty much the only thing she’s bad at.”
“She also has bad taste,” I said, giving him the once-over, which earned
me an elbow to the solar plexus.
I grunted, hoping against hope that the topic was dropped. But Everett
butting into my business was death and taxes.
“So Jesse isn’t coming?” He peered at me. “You did tell him you were
coming back today, didn’t you?”
I wanted to say yes, just so he wouldn’t give me that knowing look. But
I didn’t lie to Everett. I hadn’t told Jesse because I didn’t want to put him on
the spot. Things were very delicate right now. He was supposed to call me
back after an important meeting with Joshua, and he hadn’t done that either.
The way things had been going lately, I suspected bad news.
I risked a glance at Everett. Sure enough, there it was. The pity look. He
just couldn’t understand. Things were different with Erin. She’d been a
high-profile chef before they even got together, with a couple of restaurants
under her belt and a show on Food Network. She was used to the circus that
came with fame. She didn’t look at him and see how much simpler her life
was before she met him.
I didn’t want to see that realization in Jesse’s eyes.
I rubbed my eyes wearily. He’d said that he loved me. Yes, he’d been so
sleepy that he hadn’t even hung up the phone before conking out. But I
chose to believe he meant it. And I was going to get him to say it again.
“He’s very busy,” I finally said.
“So were you when he had his bake sale. And field day. And weren’t
you busy that day you drove him to the mission to donate all those clothes
—”
“Is there a point to this? I’m assuming there’s a point in there
somewhere that isn’t going to make me want to pour a drink over your
head.”
 “You finished your drink.”
“I’ll order another. Something cheap and hissy-fit worthy.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean to butt into your business.” He glared at my snort.
“I’m just worried. I can see how much you care about his guy, and I hope
he can handle the pressure. That’s it.”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“Then consider the topic squashed.”
I went back to staring out the window, pretending I didn’t see Everett’s
reflection. He rolled his shoulders a few times and cleared his throat. He
looked like he was about to burst from holding in more sage advice no one
had asked for. Amused despite my irritation, I started a mental countdown
for Everett Buttinsky James to get back to doing what he did best.
And three, two—
“He isn’t thinking about jumping ship, is he?” He blurted. “The media
has been kind of rough on him lately.”
Rough? 80 grit sandpaper was jealous of how the media had been
treating him. They were treating me more carefully because we were
winning. The moment that changed, so would they.
“All the more reason for me to get back and add more things to his
‘keep Andrew’ list. He won’t know what hit him.” I sent him a look full of
levity I didn’t feel. “You know how I love a good blitz.”
He didn’t take the bait. “And the next time? We both know this is
beyond the usual media attention. You guys are always going to be a public
interest story and they’ve just gotten started.”
“I can handle it.”
“You were never the question.”
I bit back words better left unsaid. He was just trying to help. And he
wasn’t wrong. But I was willing to take whatever parts of Jesse he’d give
me. That was all there was to it.
We didn’t speak much as we disembarked, but neither did anyone else. I
wouldn’t have been surprised to see fuck, lemme out of here graffitied
across our plane.
I was low-key annoyed as I grabbed my single duffle and filed off the
plane with the rest. Some of that was due to all the travel. Some of it was
because Everett didn’t know how to lie to people to make them feel better.
 We left the cool airport and stepped out into the hot, muggy sunshine. I
immediately scanned the line of cars for Erin, even though I knew I
wouldn’t see her little blue Porsche. My intuition was correct. I scanned the
row of cars again, just to be sure. An hour head start, and she was still late.
“I thought you texted her from the plane,” I said, working my tie one-
handed. “Maybe I’ll just call an Uber after all.”
“I…don’t think you’re going to have to worry about that.”
Everett’s voice sounded a little funny, and I glanced over at him with a
little frown. He nodded his head at something and I turned, only to see Jesse
standing there. I stared at him for a few seconds, wondering how I’d wished
him here and if I could do that shit again.
He was wearing ripped dark jeans that hugged his…well, everything
just right, and a pale green vee neck shirt that matched his eyes exactly.
Ever since I’d told him that green was my favorite color on him, the amount
of green in his wardrobe had gone up exponentially. While he looked
amazing like he usually did, my favorite part was the sign he gripped in his
fingers.
It just read, Baby.
Sometimes you blitz and sometimes you get blitzed. I knew I was
smiling like a goofy idiot and I couldn’t give a fuck.
Everett confirmed it. “There’s a difference between a big smile and
looking like you’ve been lobotomized.” He walked over to Jesse and held
out his fist. After a few awkward fumbles with his sign, Jesse cautiously
bumped his fist against Ev’s. “How are you, Jess?”
He bobbed his head. “Good. Great.”
Luckily for us, a blue Porsche pulled up to the curb just then. I could see
Erin’s wild curls even before she honked the horn and gave us a merry little
wave.
“I’d better get her out of here before she sees Jesse,” Everett said with a
grin. “But you two aren’t getting out of dinner.”
“Dinner?” I asked, still a little poleaxed.
“I’ll call you and set it up,” he said walking backward. “And don’t even
think about bringing anything. You know how Erin is.”
I watched as he crammed his bag in the backseat of the Cayenne and
they tooled off a moment later. “Later,” I said to no one at all.
 I walked toward Jesse, who looked a little nervous as he clutched his
little sign. I’d fully expected to find him holed up in his house, the shades
drawn and the door locked up tight. This version of Jesse standing in front
of the airport threw me for a loop. He was a little pink and flustered, but
there was a confidence in his eyes that hastened my stride.
I didn’t stop until we were close enough for me to see the light green of
his irises. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
He reached up and put a hand on my scruffy jaw right before he kissed
the living daylights out of me. Right there on the sidewalk. My tongue
tangled with his as I let out a helpless groan. My heart was beating a rhythm
of Jesse, Jesse, Jesse and I should probably get that shit checked out.
“What was that for?” I managed when he finally pulled back.
“For being so damned tempting all the time.” At my startled laugh, he
sent me a rueful look. “I mean really, McAdams, give it a rest already.”
I laughed and hugged him, damn near lifting him off his feet. “I’m glad
you’re here.”
“Of course,” he said promptly. “Why didn’t you tell me when you were
landing? I had to hear it from Everett.”
That bastard. My lips quirked with a reluctant smile. I knew he hadn’t
wanted Jesse’s number for a guacamole recipe.
“I don’t know. I went away at the worst possible time and even though
we’ve talked on the phone….” I sighed, raking my hands through my hair.
“I’m just glad you’re here.”
He looked at me for a few moments before he reached up and pressed a
kiss on my cheek. “No place I’d rather be,” he said simply. “Let’s go.”
I only stopped to pick up his sign. I wasn’t a sentimental kind of guy,
but I was saving it. That was the kind of shit that got you laid on your
twentieth anniversary.
I scanned the cars at the curb but I didn’t see any of mine. Or the
Plymouth. “Where’s your car?”
“Oh! I sold that old thing and bought a new one. Well, she’s new to me
anyway. Isn’t she a beauty?” He pointed at an older Mustang that could use
a good paint job and had a dent on the back fender. “She needs a bit of
work, but—”
 “A bit of work?” I shook my head with a smile. “Good Lord, Fox, you
shouldn’t be left alone when buying cars.”
“It’s a fucking classic. Wait until I fix her up. You’ll be jonesing to drive
her.” He gave me a starchy look. “Which I will allow after a proper
apology.”
“Yeah, we’ll see.” I followed him over to the faded blue sports car,
giving him a sidelong look. “Don’t you have anything else to say to me?”
He peered up at me for a few seconds, mental wheels turning. Then he
brightened. “I have some pictures of Moon Pie using the activity center I
built. I think she likes it better than Shortcake.”
“That’s fantastic,” I said dryly even though yeah, I did want to see those
pictures. My rabbit was a fucking genius. “Nothing else?”
More thinking as he frowned at me. I barely kept from tapping my foot
impatiently.
“I made dinner. Mac and cheese, your favorite.” He tugged on my arm.
“C’mon. I called your mom and everything to find out how you like it. I’m
not sure about this breadcrumbs on top instead of more cheese business, but
whatever.”
Amused, I just shook my head. Leave it to Jesse to hold back the critical
I love you and I’m lost without you part of the airport pickup. And I loved
him down to his bones. I’d wait for him to tell me in his own time.
As long as “his own time” coincided with today.

By nightfall, he still hadn’t told me. Not even after we’d nearly fucked each
other into a coma. We’d made it as far as the kitchen floor, which was too
bad because there was no lube nearby. We decided to make do rather than
bother to get supplies. It was glorious. I would die on the hill that frotting
deserved its own holiday. Then we lay on the kitchen floor like the heathens
we were.
“We need a shower,” Jesse said into the silence.
“No point,” I said frankly. “I’m going to want you again.”
He looked at me with an arched brow. “You say that like you’re
expecting an argument. I’m just saying I’m not getting in bed like this.
We’ve been rolling around on the dirty kitchen floor like animals.”
“Dirty? Stacia will wash your mouth out with Fabuloso. My floor is so
clean you can eat off it.” I squinted at a shadow under the stove. “Is that an
old grape?”
He chuckled softly. He sounded exhausted. And no wonder, with
everything going on. And instead of offering him comfort, I’d mauled and
mounted him on the kitchen floor. Although…he didn’t seem to mind all
that much.
I reached over and swept back his tangle of messy hair from his face.
“How’d your meeting with Joshua go?”
“Okay, I guess. He wants to promote me to the director position.”
“That’s amazing!” My enthusiasm dimmed as I took in his expression,
so granite-like that it could’ve been chiseled out of a quarry. “Can I ask
why?”
“Yeah,” he said after a moment. “When it comes to you, apparently I’m
an open book.”
I snorted. “You’re Pandora’s box inside a Rubik’s cube locked inside
Genghis Khan’s tomb.”
“No one knows where that is.”
“Precisely,” I said. “Now what’s the bad news?”
“He’s moving away to be with Dale and the grandkids in Delaware.”
I winced at the dejected slump of his shoulders. I’d been low-key
jealous of his relationship with Joshua, but I knew how close they were. “I
know you’re going to miss him, but that’s a good thing, isn’t it? He’s
wanted a do-over with Dale for a long time.”
“I know,” he said quietly. “It’s just going to take some time to wrap my
mind around it.”
“That’s fair. And it’s not like he’s leaving tomorrow.”
He sighed. “We also lost our biggest donor. Schwartz. Joshua wouldn’t
give me many details, but I could read the writing on the wall.”
“That fucking—"
“It’s okay,” he said, bumping my shoulder. “With all the negative press,
I almost don’t blame him. We’ll get better donors.”
He damn sure would. I was going to make sure of that. He already had
put the kibosh on me donating much, but I had friends who were more than
eager to jump in feet first. But there would be other people like Schwartz in
the coming days. There wasn’t a thing I could do to protect Jesse from the
scrutiny or the consequences. Except for one thing. Even if it went against
every instinct I had about hanging on to the best thing in my life.
I swallowed. “Say the word, and I can have Ari start operation damage
control.”
His brows furrowed together. “Which is what, exactly?”
“He can do his level best to put the genie back in the bottle. We can’t do
anything about the past, but we can minimize what happens from now on. If
we’re not together, they don’t have a reason to hound you anymore.”
“You haven’t talked to Ari yet, have you?”
“Not since Thursday, no.” I narrowed my eyes. “What has he done
now? Did he offer you a fitness model contract to make you go away?”
“What?” He looked startled. “Of course not.”
“Oh.”
“He was quite helpful. He gave me a long speech about taking control
of the narrative and not just bobbing along in an ocean of criticism. I swear
that fucker has a plan two seconds after something happens.” Jesse shook
his head in wonder. “He wants me to do a personal interest piece in a queer
magazine. He suggested that I tell them my story. Not just hide behind a
new persona. I can be Jesse Fox all I want, but Jamison Foxhill is still in
there, too. People deserve to know his story. He went through a lot. He
doesn’t deserve to be buried.”
It was a moment before I could speak. “I love you,” I said fiercely. “All
the versions. That includes everything you’ve been, everything you are, and
everything you want to be.”
He stared at me for a few seconds, green eyes blown wide, a look of
wonder on his face. And then he kissed me, hard, with no finesse, no
technique. Just his lips on mine and his hands on my cheeks, holding me in
place like he was afraid I’d disappear.
“This probably goes without saying, but I love you, too. And I’m going
to show you how much.” He glanced at the floor and wrinkled his nose.
“Somewhere else.”
He got off the floor with a limberness I envied. For my part, I had to do
it in stages, groaning the entire way. I had bruises on top of bruises, and my
back looked like I’d gone a couple of rounds with someone in a superior
weight class. I’d like to say they looked worse than they felt but, yeah, no.
Fuck that noise. They looked bad, they felt bad, and I’d exacerbated them
with enthusiastic sex on my imported porcelain kitchen tile.
Worth it.
I made sure Jesse got a good look as I picked up my discarded clothing,
smothering a grin when I heard his gasp. He proceeded to fuss an
extraordinary amount, especially for a guy that told me to suck it up the
second time I’d rolled off his tiny bed during the night. I ate the attention up
like a dog reveling in a good belly scratch.
“I’m going to give you a rubdown,” he decided, trailing his fingers
along my back, light as a feather. “And how about a soak in the tub?”
Sounded like sheer heaven. “As long as you join me.”
He pressed a kiss in the middle of my back, somewhere around my
Outlaws tattoo. I shivered.
“Can’t believe how bruised up you guys get,” he murmured, turning me
around. He pressed gentle fingers on the purplish bruise on my abdomen
where some defensive lineman had gotten froggy. “Then you just get taped
up and stumble right back on the field. You need a keeper.”
I was so fucking glad he wanted the job. He’d made that clear. “As long
as you’re the one keeping me,” I said with a raised eyebrow. “I’m alright
with that.”
A faint smile crossed his face. “Good. I would’ve hated to add
kidnapping to my rap sheet, but I would.” He threaded his fingers with mine
and gave my hand a gentle tug. “Let’s go, ya big lug. Tub. Then bed.”
As I followed him up the stairs, I thought how right it felt. Him here
with me. And even though it was kind of soon, I’d never been good at
delayed gratification. I pulled him to a stop on the landing. “I’m not letting
you go home tomorrow.”
He blinked up at me. “It’s a little late in the game to tell me that you’re
a serial killer.”
I huffed out a laugh. “I meant I’ll let you go home if you want, but I
want you to stay here. With me.”
His cheeks turned pink and he looked ridiculously pleased…even if his
next words didn’t match his face. “I’m not living in this stroke session of an
athlete’s dream.”
I snorted. I hated that he had a point. “Shut up, Foxy.”
“Why can’t we live in my house?” He asked. “You said it was nice.”
 “It is. But where are we gonna cram my California King XL bed? The
living room?”
“I have a perfectly serviceable mattress,” he said starchily. “It cost me
—”
“Three bucks on Amazon. Yeah, yeah, I remember.”
His lips twitched. “Three hundred, you bastard.”
“I also happen to have a room just for sneakers, four cars, and a boat,
Jesse,” I said patiently. “That’s not gonna work.”
“You said that boat belonged to your neighbor,” he accused.
“I’m a simple man with simple tastes,” I reminded him with a little grin.
“Just wait ’til we set sail on the S.S. Foxy. You’ll love it.”
He shook his head, a slow smile crossing his lips. “I don’t know. Isn’t it
a little soon?”
“Okay, I’m doing this wrong.”
I pulled him closer, close enough that I could see the pulse beating away
frantically in his neck. He looked so vulnerable right then and very un-
Jesse-like. He was trusting me not to flay him open just because I could. He
never had to worry about that. I’d rather die than hurt him. I just wanted to
love him.
“I want to wake up next to you. Every morning. I want to go to sleep
beside you every night.” I hid a grin. “Even though you’re annoying—”
“Pretty sure you’re still doing it wrong,” he said dryly.
“I just want you to know that I haven’t romanticized anything. I see you
for who you are.”
“Annoying?”
“Absolutely.”
He chuckled. “Go on.”
I got serious. “You’re also the kindest, most generous guy I’ve ever met.
Blue said—”
“You know, for someone you say you can’t stand, you quote him a lot.”
“I do not,” I said, going on to relay what the fuck Blue said. “Blue said
that if you find someone that makes you realize the world is bigger than
football, never let him go.”
His eyes were wide and a little damp, and he gave them a swipe. “Oh.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Is it ok if I quote Blue now?”
 “Yeah,” he said a little hoarsely, right before he pulled me down for a
kiss. “That works for me.”
EPILOGUE
 JESSE

M ost of you here already know who I am, but for those of you who don't,
I'm Jesse Fox. If you would've asked me when I was a kid, I would've
said I was normal. I liked riding my bike and watching Saturday morning
cartoons with a bowl of cereal. I grew up in your typical lower- middle
class neighborhood. My father was what we would now classify as a
deadbeat, and there was always something out there more important than
my mother and me.
But we had each other.
She always made sure that I had everything I needed. Clothes, food,
shelter. My father would roll into town and talk loudly about how much he
did for us financially. But as an adult, I know better. My mother was more
than the backbone. She was the head and the heart.
She signed every birthday card with his name and wrapped every gift
that he “sent.” She went to every soccer game and sat at my bedside when I
broke my arm falling off my bike. I never imagined there would be a time
when she would tell me goodbye. I never knew that love could be
conditional.
I looked at myself in the mirror as I ran through my speech in my head.
I’d practiced it enough by now, but the routine was soothing as I finished
getting dressed. I took in the tailored pinstripe suit and pale blue tie.
Andrew had done something with my hair that made it look like I owned a
brush, and I had an honest-to-goodness linen pocket square. I cleaned up
pretty good, if I did say so myself.
 Although the neat hairstyle really wasn’t my bag. I reached up just to
give it a tiny little flick and…. “Leave it,” a voice warned from the
doorway.
I dropped my hand sheepishly as Andrew came into the bathroom, a
towel wrapped around his waist. Moon Pie was cuddled to his big chest,
looking right with the world, her nose twitching a million miles an hour.
She sneezed and gave me an offended look.
I sent her a glare. There are more subtle ways to let someone know his
cologne is too strong.
“I was just looking,” I said.
“Looking is not touching.”
“You said you loved my messy hair.”
“I do. It always looks like you just got fucked,” he said with a sinfully
sexy grin. “But there are going to be pictures and my mom is going to want
one. Or six.”
My exasperated sigh was more than a little fond. Libby had taken my
motherless state as a personal challenge. She started by texting me funny
memes and inspirational quotes and segued to coming to the center and
volunteering for story hour. Sometimes she just popped up around lunch
and demanded that I take a much-needed break to eat with her. And when
Andrew and I came over for Christmas, she’d added a hand-stitched Jesse
stocking to the mantel to match the rest. I begrudgingly realized at that
moment, staring at that damn stocking, that she’d wormed her way into my
heart. Fuck.
I started as a stray cat in the rain who she left a can of tuna on the porch
for. Now I was just the cat who showed up every night around dinner and
pounded on the screen door with his paw.
We now had weekly Friday coffee dates that Andrew tried to horn in on,
but that wasn’t happening. She and Glenn had decided to cool things off for
a bit because sometimes it seemed like a love of Lucas was all they really
had in common. So she was back in the dating market, which had vastly
changed since she’d last been single. I spent a lot of those coffee dates
listening to and laughing about her dating snafus that no son should ever
hear. She once told me that our early Friday chats were the best part of her
week and I just blinked at her, stunned. Her love was so honest and real that
it still freaked me out a little. So she slapped me—she claims playfully, I
call bullshit—and told me to snap out of it, and I did.
After my grandfather passed, I found myself fifteen years old and living
on the streets. I scavenged food out of dumpsters and lived in abandoned
buildings and slept on park benches. I hooked up with a crew that gave me
temporary food and shelter as long as I did the criminal acts that they
wanted me to do. And when I didn't want to steal cars anymore, they cast
me out, too.
Conditional.
I met a kid in the soup line at the mission wearing a t-shirt with my
favorite band. It reminded me of before, when I was allowed to laze in bed
and flip through magazines and buy frivolous t-shirts with my favorite
things silkscreened on the front. We connected immediately. He told me he
could offer me a place to live. Protection. And I thought it was worth the
risk, not to have to sleep in the park that night. He was working for
someone he called Big Al, and Big Al had certain expectations. You had to
bring in a certain amount of money, or you couldn't stay. I worked a corner
for two weeks before I was busted by an undercover. Big Al always sent
representation for his boys, but I wasn't bringing in enough money to be
worth the trouble. And I was on my own again.
Conditional.
“Will you put that rabbit down?” I fussed. “It’s bad enough you bought
her a harness.”
“And we’re going to miss our walk tonight, thanks very much.” He
sighed a put-upon sigh. “How many of these are you going to win, Foxy?”
I grinned because there hadn’t been that many. It was my second award
for Humanitarian of the Year in three years. I didn’t need the recognition,
but anything that brought publicity to Rainbow Harbor was aces with me.
The media attention hadn't died down as much as I’d hoped, but it had
become manageable. Or maybe I'd just gotten used to it. Either way, I no
longer cringed every time I saw my name in the news. These days, it was
usually for something good.
Much to Ari’s delight, the public interest piece had done its job. People
saw me as a human being, not just a story in a gossip rag. I hadn’t heard
anything from my mother, and I was happy about that. I’d made a new life
and I had a huge found family, and she’d chosen not to be part of that.
 We’d purchased a new building for Rainbow Harbor…and by we, I
meant my lovely partner whose attitude could generally be described as
take no prisoners. He’d bought the three-story fixer-upper and presented me
with the key, which was largely symbolic since most of the doors and
windows had wood covering them. When I stared at him, flabbergasted,
he’d walked away, calling over his shoulder, “Deal with it, Foxy.”
I’d never related to his dad more about wanting to rip up the deed and
eat the pieces.
We were renovating the building slowly. It had plenty of space and the
grounds were huge. It wasn’t as conveniently located in the neighborhood
and would increase the distance by a couple of miles for our core base. But
we were working on our first shuttle purchase. I was also thinking of
leaving the old building in operation as an annex and putting Molly in
charge. I snorted. Like she wasn’t already in charge of all of us.
Andrew leaned against the vanity, brushing a finger over Moon Pie’s
nose. I took another look at all that muscly goodness still glistening with
drops of water, wishing I wasn’t already suited and booted and ready to
rock. Maybe we had time to do somethin’. Even a little somethin’.
My eyes widened as I took in the time. That stopped me from ogling his
near buck-naked state in a hurry. “Please, please, please tell me you’re
damp from the shower and not sweaty from working out.”
“Chill, I took a shower downstairs.”
I eased back on my mini heart attack. “That’s good, then.”
I felt sort of bad that I’d taken over the en suite, but I hated sharing a
bathroom with him. He left damp towels everywhere and could never take a
shower without getting the floor sopping wet. Separate bathrooms equaled
no one strangling anyone with the repeatedly saturated bathroom rug.
“You’ve still got to get dressed.” I started putting on my cuff links—
silver rainbows with tiny puffs of clouds at both ends. They were a birthday
gift from Andrew’s mother.
“I can pull this together in a snap,” he said breezily.
Ah, to be young and have a perfect body. And complete confidence that
you could look magazine ready in a jiff. I’d like to say he was wrong, but
I’d seen him pull it off way too many times.
“I hate you,” I muttered.
 “No, you don’t.” His eyes twinkled. “In fact, you said the love word
first.”
I gasped because that’s what you do when you find out that your partner
of three years is going mad. “I did no such thing.”
“Actually, you did.”
“When?”
“When you were going on about whales needing child protective
services.”
My eyes bulged further. “Excuse me? Whales are great parents.”
“You’re the one who said—” He made a sound of frustration. “You did
say it first and that’s that.”
“Well, there's no need to make up false declarations.” I huffed out a
sigh. “I do, you know.”
“Do what?”
“Love you.” My mouth twitched. “Despite your hatred of whales.”
“I do not hate….” He shook his head. “The point is that you love me
and I love you.”
“Even though I reported a whale to child protective services?”
He chuckled as he leaned down and kissed me soundly. “Even then.”
“Good. Now go. Shoo. Get dressed and put Moon Pie back in her
hutch.”
He strolled off in no particular hurry, and I grabbed the back of his
towel before he disappeared. To help, of course. Not just to see his perfectly
sculpted butt flexing as he walked away. I tossed the towel on the
countertop and went back to my cuff links. And practicing my speech.
When my past was brought to light, I knew people would mock me.
Judge me. Second guess all the decisions I made to survive. And they did.
But the thing I worried most about was the kids not looking up to me
anymore. I thought I could only be a role model if I was perfect.
Conditional.
Rainbow Harbor is about more than just community. We offer a place to
kids where love is not measured or tethered with strings. Many kids are
walking the same path that I walked, and it breaks my heart. They feel
abandoned. Lost. We're here to show them that they're not. They didn't do
anything wrong. And it's possible to come out on the other side.
Unconditional.
 Which reminded me….
“Did Joshua and Dale get in okay?” I called.
“Yep.”
“And they know what time—” I stopped projecting/yelling when he
appeared in the doorway. “They know what time the car will be there to
pick them up?”
“Yep.”
As promised, he’d gotten fully fucking dressed in a jiff. Bastard. He
looked amazing in a black suit that had been tailored to perfection.
Although how hard was it really to create a work of art for a work of art?
He took me by the shoulders and moved me over a couple of inches so
he could finish tying his pink tie in the mirror. “I picked Joshua and crew up
from the airport—screaming grandkids included—and dropped them off at
the hotel.” He looked a little frazzled at the memory. “You still don’t want
kids, right?”
I chuckled. The kids at the center were all my kids. DNA didn’t make
that more meaningful. “Right.”
“Thank fuck.” He pretended to wipe sweat off his forehead. “It’s bad
enough that Kelly and Blue are making us the godparents of those two
rugrats.”
“You love those kids,” I accused.
“Please,” Andrew scoffed at the very idea. “I can take ’em or leave
’em.”
I decided to let him have his selective memory, as if he hadn’t declared
the last day of the month Uncle AJ’s Day of Fun. He practically stole our
friends’ collective children and spent all day spoiling them rotten. Then he
sent them home all hopped up on sugar with armfuls of expensive shit they
didn’t need.
His brother Grant and wife Kim just sighed and let it happen. Blue
seemed amused, dealing with it in his usual affable manner. And Kelly?
Well, Kelly had sworn certain death if we ever took them to the movies and
gave them carte blanche at the refreshments stand again. Apparently, a box
of Sno-Caps and Milk Duds was all it took for those rugrats to transform
into Tigger from Winnie the Pooh.
Despite my dire prediction that Kelly and I wouldn't be friends, the
unthinkable had indeed happened. I mostly blamed the Outlaws. I’d decided
to get out of my comfort zone and go to the home games. A little talk from
Everett helped. And by “talk,” I mean he told me to get my head out of my
ass and support my guy like he supported me. I kept that little chat a secret
between us so Andrew didn't put Everett's head up his own ass—he was a
little overprotective when it came to me. And I fucking lived for that shit.
I’d gotten used to sitting with Kelly. He usually brought his friend,
Connor, and we all ate and drank way too much. We were good for each
other. I yanked Kelly back in his seat when he got furious with the ref for
missing a call, and he patiently explained the finer details of the game to
me. Honestly, I think he relished finding someone who knew less about
football than he did. I also took great pleasure in putting the kibosh on his
idea that we alter Wags to Whags.
“Wives, husbands, and girlfriends,” he’d said earnestly.
“We’re not doing that.”
“At least let’s put it on the agenda.”
“We’re not doing that, either.”
“I’ve never liked you less,” he declared.
He had, especially that time I'd let someone skip us in the refreshment
line and that person got the last order of onion rings. Even though he was
kind of a genius and I’d struggled to maintain a C average in college, we
had a lot of common ground. I enjoyed our time together. And I would only
admit it at the threat of death.
I also loved Kelly and Blue’s kids, Layla and Hunter. The adoption
process had been long and rigorous in a way that frustrated us all. It had
been clear from the jump that their social worker had her reservations about
Kelly and Blue’s sexuality. She’d tried her damnedest to get them
disqualified. When that didn’t work, she stalled as long as she could. But
she hadn’t had a prayer against stopping the adoption. Not with Blue’s
reach and their overpriced attorneys.
That made me even angrier. What about the parents out there that didn’t
have their money and influence? There were so many unloved kids in the
world. Why someone’s sexual persuasion would stall that process in any
way was beyond me.
Done with his tie, Andrew turned to me and smiled. “You nervous?”
“Terrified.” I let out a little chuckle. But not about the awards ceremony.
 “You’ll do fine, baby. You always do.” He dropped a kiss on my nose.
“You have your speech?”
I didn’t need it. I patted my left pocket anyway to check and felt the
comforting rustle of paper. I also had a tiny velvet box in there that was
giving me palpitations. That was pretty much why I’d memorized my
speech forward and backward, just so I’d have one less thing to obsess over.
I knew the time was right. I wanted this more than anything. And I was
almost certain of the answer. But it had to be right. He deserved it.
I thank you for this award. But most of all, I thank you for the
opportunity to keep doing what I do. I'd like to thank Joshua Knox, who saw
potential in me when I saw none in myself. And all the people who put in
such hard work at the Harbor, day in and day out. Molly. Teddy. Van.
Camilla. You are rockstars and we don't pay you enough—can't pay you
enough—for what you do. I'd like to thank our donors, who have stepped up
in such a big way and allowed us to help more kids than we ever thought
possible. I'd like to thank friends, who showed me you don't have to share
DNA to be family.
Unconditional.
He gave me a suspicious look. “It's not sad, is it?”
I chuckled because most people wouldn't look at this big, strapping
football guy and know that he was a softy at heart. And he didn't reserve it
for just big events either, like when Grant and Kim announced she was
pregnant and we were going to be uncles again. He’d practically had a
meltdown last week when we were watching a nature show. The starving
polar bear didn’t catch the seal he’d been counting on to survive and cue the
dramatics.
“I don’t know who to vote for,” he’d blurted out, looking horrified as
the polar bear slumped to the ice. “I don't want him to starve, but I also
want the seal to live.”
“It's just nature, sweetheart," I said, my eyes wide at his outburst.
“Besides, whatever happened already happened."
He clicked off the TV and set the remote on the coffee table with a
decisive click. “We're not watching this crap anymore,” he announced.
And that's the story of how all my Planet Earth recordings disappeared
from the DVR. He claimed he didn't touch them, but I called bullshit on
that. Loudly. Someone also might’ve deleted a few SportsCenter recordings
for revenge.
He narrowed his eyes at me. "I can't help but notice you didn't answer
the question."
“What question?” I asked innocently.
“I asked if your little speech is sad or not.” He frowned—pouted, really
—as I reached up and straightened his tie. “It's not going to make me cry, is
it?”
“Nope,” I said cheerily because I was a lying liar who lied.
Most of all, I'd like to thank the man who showed me that not all love is
quantified. The man who showed me that loving quietly is fine. But loving
out loud is the best feeling of all. And if you don't mind indulging me for a
moment, I'd like to ask him a very special question.
I reached up and kissed his smooth cheek. I missed his scruff, but I
loved looking at that cut jaw more. Hell, who was I kidding? I loved
everything about him. I was proud that he was mine. And tonight, I was
going to let everybody know it.
“Come on, if we don't get a move on, we're going to be late, and that's
kind of Erin's thing.” He glanced at his watch. “Let's go get your award.”
“Tonight is just about paper, sweetheart.” I slipped my hand into his and
interlocked our fingers as he sent me a smile. “I already got my award.”
 AFTERWORD

Thank you for coming back to the Rules of Possession world for a little
while.

If you’re interested in reading more by yours truly, you can follow me on

Facebook, Amazon, or Bookbub, so you’ll be notified of new releases. You
can also join my Facebook group, Harmon’s Hideout, if you’d like to chat.

I’ll see you on our next fictional journey.

S.E. Harmon
 ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Any author knows that you may write a book alone, but you’re not getting it
ready for publication without a team to make that book shine. So I’d like to
thank Leslie Copeland for beta reading and saying all the hard things. And
my editor, Dianne Thies, who came through in a big way and did such a
lovely job. I’d also like to thank Valerie for her alpha reading skills. I
appreciate you guys. Any errors in the book that remain are mine.

And as always, I’d like to thank the readers.

 ABOUT THE AUTHOR

S.E. Harmon has had a lifelong love affair with writing. It’s been both wonderful and rocky (they've
divorced several times), but they always manage to come back together. She's a native Floridian with
a Bachelor of Arts and a Masters in Fine Arts, and now splits her days between voraciously reading
romance novels and squirreling away someplace to write them. Her current beta reader is a nosy
American Eskimo who begrudgingly accepts payment in the form of dog biscuits.

Website: https://seharmon.weebly.com/

Email: silkguitar2011@comcast.net
ALSO BY S.E. HARMON

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So Into You
The Blueprint
A Deeper Blue
P.S. I Spook You
Principles of Spookology
Spooky Business
The Spooky Life
Coddiwomple
Chrysalis
Cross
Love Is
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