Page 69 of The Love Playbook

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

Jackson

I’ve known all along that what’s between Autumn and me was likely to end. I just thought I’d have more warning.

The whiplash of going from hoping we could turn into something more—or at least the comfort of having what we had until I could change her mind—to the abrupt end is almost worse than the end itself. Not quite, but it’s a hell of a mindfuck for sure.

I replay the scene at the bakery over and over in my mind, unable to get it out of my head. Wondering if there was anything I could’ve done differently to change the outcome.

But no matter how many times I’ve gone over it like game tape, examining every possibility, every misstep, the inevitable conclusion is that no, there’s nothing I could’ve done that would’ve changed the outcome.

The only relief I have is throwing myself into football, which thrills the coaching staff and my teammates to no end. My teammates have even decided that I’m exempt from getting Pigged for the rest of the season due to my exemplary record.

Most of the time we get lectured for letting relationships and breakups and personal problems distract us from the game. Who would’ve guessed a shitty breakup would have the opposite effect on me?

Eli’s not fooled, though. For one thing, he knows what happened between Autumn and me. I stumbled home from the bakery in a daze, the whole story spilling out after minimal questioning on his part. Thankfully he kept his, “I told you so,” to himself.

After our next away game, he comes up to me in the locker room and smacks me on the shoulder. “We’re all going out to celebrate our win. And we’re on a mission to find you a distraction.”

I bite back my groan and force a smile instead. “Cool.”

It’s not cool. It’s the absolute last thing I want. But now that I’m apparently on the market, Eli and the other guys are determined to get my mind off Autumn.

So an hour later after we’re all showered and dressed, our gear dropped off at the hotel, Eli and I head down to the lobby where the other guys are gathered in a cluster. They greet us with head nods and a chorus of, “Hey,” and, “Ready?”

Hands in my pockets, I go with the crowd, which is my usual MO. The guys decide to go out, they invite me along, and I go.

Except this time, they’re jostling me more, making crude jokes, Liam telling me he’ll be my wingman for tonight.

“Whatever,” Eli puts in from my other side. “If anyone’s Jackson’s wingman, it’s me.”

“Cause you’ve been doing such a bang up job so far?” Liam fires back.

Irritated by their arguing, I hold up my hands as though to separate them. “I don’t want or need a wingman tonight or any other night. Thanks anyway.”

“Aww, man, c’mon,” Liam whines. “The whole reason we’re going out tonight is to find someone to blow you in the bathroom.”

My balls shrivel up at the thought of someone other than Autumn doing that to me. Though if Autumn wanted to blow me in a bar bathroom …

That’s not really my style, but I’d be willing to try it if she wanted to. Too bad once we started doing naked activities, we stopped going out. I can think of all kinds of fun things we could’ve done together.

Now that’s not possible.

“Hey.” It’s Dylan. He bumps my shoulder with his, having replaced Liam next to me. “You alright?”

I shrug and force a smile. “Course. We won. I added to my total yardage and touchdowns and didn’t drop a pass. Coach is thrilled. Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

He eyes me, but doesn’t say anything for a long moment. Then, his gaze focused forward as we follow Andrew wherever he’s leading us, he says, “I know we all gave you grief about hooking up with Autumn. But I’m sorry it ended the way it did.”

“Thanks, man.” For as much as I resent the idea that I need wingmen to find me a new chick, or the thought of a new chick at all, I appreciate that my friends obviously care about me. This is what they do when any of them ends a relationship. And now they’re inducting me more fully into their ranks.

It should make me feel like less of an outsider. But somehow, it doesn’t.

* * *

Despite my protests on the walk over, every last one of these guys is trying to be my wingman for the night. I can’t even count the number of women they send my way. All pretty. All displaying varying amounts of interest, ranging from outright hostility to ready to drag me to the bathroom for a quick fuck right then and there. Every last one of them politely sent on their way.

It’s funny when I tell the hostile ones I’m not interested either, though. Some of them are annoyed, like how dare I not want to bang them? Some of them are relieved, and I end up chatting with a few of them. One pretty brunette ends up giving me her number, not that I have any intention of calling her. Even if I weren’t still hung up on Autumn, I’m in school an eight hour bus ride away.

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