Page 58 of Wicked Player

“Well yeah. No one can deny his hotness. But he’s also bossy. Arrogant.”

Paige rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Oliver’s demanding they have a baby. Shannon wants to wait. She doesn’t like the fact he keeps talking to her about it.”

Amanda’s brows almost flew off her forehead with shock. “You don’t want to have his baby? Are you nuts?”

“I do. But I practically raised Beaux. And it’s only been a couple of years.” She shrugged and picked at a fingernail. “I finally have a job I love and the best husband when he’s not being a bossy jerk. I just want it to be us a while longer. Is that so bad?”

“No. It’s not bad at all.” Everyone knew Beaux’s story. Raised practically by his older sister. Their mom had worked her tail off to keep a roof over their heads and she ended up passing away when Beaux was still in high school. But it was Shannon who’d always been there for him. Who could fault her for a little more time to enjoy being married before she jumped into raising a family of her own?

“It’s not bad,” I assured her. “I’m sure Oliver will understand. But I totally get where you’re coming from.”

“Thanks. Now get Paige to understand, too.”

“Me?” Paige said. Her hand went to her chest. “But I want to be an Aunt.”

“Then become a mom and have your own kids if you want to spoil someone.”

“For your information,” Paige smirked. “Beaux and I are going to start trying as soon as the season’s over. So I think if you and Oliver have babies, then we can have babies together and that’d be the best thing ever.”

Shannon squealed and somehow the conversation turned to excited, animated talk of babies and Aunts and Uncles and presents and all things girlie.

We shared drinks with them, ate some dinner, and by the time dinner was done, and Paige and Shannon were handing out hugs and exchanging numbers, Amanda and I had both made two new friends. It always surprised me how quickly someone could enter your life in the most random fashion, and yet it suddenly felt like you’d known them forever. With Shannon and Paige, it was easy.

We said our good-bye’s, dishing out hugs and exchanging numbers and as soon as they left, Amanda turned to me with a fresh martini.

“So…” Amanda sipped her drink. When Amanda wasn’t chugging, it was dangerous. I didn’t have time to brace myself before she threw down the axe. “Gage talks about you?”

Yeah. Somehow, I figured that was going to come up. Although I was hoping an hour or two of laughter would have made her forget.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mmm…hmmm.”

“Are you hungry? I’m hungry.” And really, screw the club soda and lime. Tonight was the perfect night to get drunk.

“We just ate.” Oh. Right. She gave me eyes that said she wasn’t letting this go.

I gave her eyes that said I didn’t know what she was talking about.

“Fine. Then I need a drink.” When the waiter returned, I ordered a martini.

Later, I took an Uber home. And when I woke up Saturday with a hangover, I had no regrets.

Nineteen

Gage

There was nothing better than Game Day.

Every time I walked onto the field, I wasn’t there to do a job, I was there to play the game I’d loved since I was seven and I first strapped on a helmet, slammed into a padded dummy held by a volunteer parent coach. I still kept in touch with Coach Mayer. That very first season of youth football embedded the love of the game in my veins. Harrison had passed away a year earlier. I’d promised him I’d play and I’d be the best in the world.

I might not have been the best, but every time I stepped onto the field, I took it all in. The energy. The excitement. The crazed fans who showed up half-naked with body paint covering their torsos and faces.

Harrison would have loved every minute, and it wasn’t just my job, but it was my honor to remember him. To slam my fist to my chest and raise a hand high in the air, saluting him, giving myself a second to remember my brother. Sunday was no different. The stands were only a quarter of the way filled, but it was early, and they’d be filled soon. On the field, Philadelphia was already there. I walked on, helmet in my hand, scanned the crowd. The lights. The rumble of noise. It was like being in a tunnel and on top of the world at the same time. Words were shouted above the din, and in our end zone, Hale had on noise-canceling headphones while he warmed up his arm. I’d join him next and practice running routes with just enough energy to warm up our bodies but not wear ourselves out. Powell ran ten-yard sprints. He stopped every once in awhile to slap another player on the shoulder or talk to the offensive coordinator. A handful of defensive linemen warmed up with cardio.

Reporters and cameramen were setting up and it was the reporters on the field level box behind the padded walls where my attention finally settled.

Mostly to a pretty little blonde, long waves draped over her shoulders almost concealing the teal and blue jersey she wore.

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