Page 56 of The Game Plan
Shifting the gear into park, I shut off the ignition as Crew pulls in behind me. We exchange a silent nod before walking to the door together. He grips my shoulder in a comforting manner, but doesn’t say anything. I have a feeling he already knows why I’m here and the bomb I dropped earlier.
Crew pushes open the door, and I follow him inside.
“Hey, baby!” Bret shouts, walking down the stairs. “Oh, hey, brother. Didn’t know you were stopping by.”
I grunt a response as she lands on the last step. Her eyes snap to mine, and her face falls, eyebrows tightening. “You look like shit.”
“Thanks, Sis. Good to fucking see you too.” My voice comes out rough, exasperation bleeding through every word.
Crew wordlessly walks over to Bret, leans down, and places a kiss on her forehead. She melts into his touch, shoulders relaxing as a soft smile tips her lips.
“Cut him some slack,” Crew says softly.
Her gaze lands on mine. “What’s going on? Is it Savannah?”
“Something like that,” I grumble, tipping my head in the direction of their living room. “Can we talk?”
She nods as I follow her into the living room. Crew disappears, not following us. I’m not sure why he’s giving us space. It’s not like Bret isn’t going to tell him everything as soon as I leave. Which is fine—he’s her person. I expect them to share everything. Secrets never get anyone anywhere.
Take your own advice, Grant.
We pile onto the couch—Bret on one end, me on the other. The faint scent of a candle lingers, almost calming as I take a deep breath. I stretch an arm across the back cushion and scrub the other hand over my face, scratching at my beard. Tipping my head back, I stare at the ceiling and let out a deep breath.
“Grant, you’re scaring me.”
I snort. “Well, I kind of fucked up.”
“That’s not like you,” she says, suspicion and concern rising in her tone.
Crew takes that moment to walk back into the room, three beers in hand.
“Shit, it must be bad if we’re drinking,” Bret murmurs, taking the outstretched beer. I do the same, nodding my thanks as I twist the top. I take a long pull, hoping for some liquid courage.
Knowing this conversation isn’t going to go any better, I rip the band-aid off. “I panicked and blurted out Savannah is my wife.”
Bret blinks once. Twice. Three times.
“Wait? What?” Her voice rises. “You’re married?”
I shake my head.
“Then start at the beginning because I don’t know what could have gone through your head to blurt such a thing.”
Before I have a chance to start, her head whips toward Crew, who’s sitting in the oversized chair, beer bottle pressed to his mouth. “Did you know about this?”
He shrugs. “Rumor was floating around the locker room.”
Cool.Cool.Everyone will know by morning. I just hope no one texts Savannah until she’s home from work. I want to be the one to tell her.
Bret’s attention slices back to mine, and her eyebrow quirks, telling me silently to continue.
“We were in an offensive staff meeting, prepping for week one,” I start. “Martinez asked about the code of conduct—wanted to know if he should be keeping an eye on any players. Well, Danners—”
“Fucking Danners,” Crew mumbles, interrupting me.
I nod aggressively. “Right? Fucking snake.”
“Continue,” Bret says, rolling her hand in akeep movingmotion.
