Page 33 of The Run Option

“She’s not pregnant. We’re–we’re in love.” I stumble a little over the confession. Even though I teased Willow about not being able to say it with a straight face, I’m not entirely comfortable yet either. I’m hoping that my stuttering will come off as nerves.

“And this has nothing to do with the media being all over you for carrying her out of a party?” he asks.

“I thought I told you not to look at the tabloids.”

“It’s a little difficult when a bunch of guys on the team are sending me photos and texts about youscoring.”

I wince. “I’m sorry. That wasn’t what it looked like at all, which is why we’re announcing our engagement tomorrow. I’ve been keeping it private to keep us out of the media.”

“I get keeping it from the media, but why from me? You know I’d never tell anyone.”

I swipe a hand over my face. The hurt in his voice feels like a helmet to the ribs.

“I’m sorry, Shep. I should have told you. I thought it would be best to keep it quiet from everyone, to lower the risk. But that was wrong.”

This whole thing is wrong. I don’t lie to my brother. Even when I was a screw-up, bouncing from party to party and throwing my life away, I never lied about where I was or what I was doing. But this is to protect him. I don’t want him caught up in any kind of legal trouble or a scandal if something gets out. Plus, it’s not exactly fair for me to have Willow lie to her family but I tell the truth to mine.

“It’s okay. I know you’ve been put through the wringer when it comes to the media.”

I squeeze my eyes shut. Yeah, I have. But most of that was my fault. If I hadn’t acted like such a reckless idiot, they’d probably leave me alone more. Not completely, because, let’s face it, they’re vultures. But enough to where I wouldn’t be in this position.

This isn’t just for you,I remind myself.It’s for Willow to stay in the country.I have to stick to this story for her. Even if she’s still learning to like me, she’s a good person. I could tell that before I saw how she took care of her granny earlier. Shehelped her to bed–much to Granny Mae’s dismay–and placed a grocery delivery order to her house while I drove her back to her apartment.

“Thanks for understanding,” I say.

“Do you have a picture of her? The ones the guys sent to me are blurry and dark.”

“Yeah, I can send you one.” I put my phone on speaker and open up my camera roll.

Photos from before dinner fill the screen. The ones the valet guy took for us are passable, but the ones I took are unforgettable. I click on my favorite of them all. Willow is looking up at me, the edges of her lips tugged up in a playful smirk. I’m staring down at her, smiling myself. Her hand is on my chest, and at the bottom of the photo you can see her engagement ring sparkling beneath the golden rays of the setting sun. I already sent the photo to Brock–after texting it to Willow first to check. She’d said it was a good one, but nothing else. I think if I didn’t know our ruse, I’d believe we were in love, or at least attracted to each other.

I send the photo to Shepherd. A whistle pierces the silence.

“She’s hot.” I roll my eyes at his choice of words. “And I definitely believe your whole story now. You look like a lovestruck puppy, ready to do her bidding.”

“I should have kept this from you even longer,” I say and he laughs.

“Don’t be mad at me for pointing out the obvious. I can’t believe you’re gettingmarried. When do I get to meet her?”

“I’ve got a game near Atlanta in two weeks. I think we could swing by and watch your game, maybe hang out after. Then you could come watch me play Sunday.”

“Really?” The excitement in his voice squeezes my heart. Our parents rarely ever watch either of our games, and we don’t have many extended family members that we keep in touch with. Iwish I could watch him play more often, but I make do with watching on TV and texting him after. Except for tonight…I missed this one to take care of this whole situation with Willow. I had to look up the highlights.

“You know I try to make it to your games whenever I can,” I tell him. Usually, on a bye week I try to spend the entire weekend with him. But this next one will be my wedding weekend. Hopefully Willow won’t mind coming with me to watch him play in Atlanta.

“One of us should have chosen a different sport,” he says.

I chuckle. “I chose football first,junior,” I say, teasing him with the nickname I know he hates. He’s been called my junior since he was picked up by the Thrashers.

“How did you get someone to marry you when you’re the worst?” he grumbles and I laugh more, though there’s an ache building in my chest the more we talk about my impending nuptials.

“I just got lucky, I guess.”

I’m sure Willow wouldn’t call herselflucky, but I feel like I just got dealt an ace and a queen in a game of blackjack. The whole deck was stacked against me, but I beat the odds when she said yes.

It’s game day. My usual adrenaline is multiplied by a hundred–okay, a thousand–because of the announcement that broke this morning. Willow and I both posted on our respective social media, then several news sources splashed the photos we took all over TV screens and articles. I don’t listen to morning game day coverage, but if I did, I’m sure it would be mentioned at least once. Brock made sure that everyone would know that the incident from the other night at the party isold news.

I think back on the call I had with my parents this morning, where I broke the news to them. It went how I expected–fine. They congratulated me and invited us to Thanksgiving. I told them I’d probably be playing a game that day. They laughed and said they forgot I played on Thanksgiving. I hung up feeling slightly empty but mostly relieved to have checked that off my list. The rest of today won’t be so easy.

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