Page 109 of False Start
“It’s never been fake,” I admitted, sighing as we wiped down the squatting equipment and moved over to the bench press.
“Seems like things have gotten pretty serious since the wedding,” he assessed, taking his spot under the barbell. I was quiet as he pulsed out his first set, and when he sat back up, he cocked a brow at me, waiting for my response.
I sighed, sinking down onto a bench across from him. “Is it crazy if I admit that’s true?”
I knew my answer shocked Braden. His eyebrows slid up into his hairline, his jaw hinging open a bit.
“No, not crazy,” he finally said. “Fast, maybe, but…”
I groaned, sliding my hands back through my hair. “I know. Ithasbeen fast. But… only if you look at this summer. The truth is that I’ve been gone for that girl for fuckingyears, Braden. And the way I feel about her…”
The corner of Braden’s mouth quirked up. “Who are you and what have you done with the Kyle Robbins shithead I know?”
I scowled, winding up my sweat towel and snapping him with it before we traded places.
I pumped out ten quick reps before sitting up again.
“Why aren’t we ever having these conversations aboutyou,” I asked, jabbing him in the chest with my finger.
Braden shrugged, though I didn’t miss how the question had sobered him. “You know how it is for me. Football and family — that’s where my focus is.”
“You know you can be a great athlete, take care of your family, and still have a little time for fun, right?”
He frowned. “It doesn’t feel fair.”
“What doesn’t?”
“For me to be able to have fun, to live a life so full when my sister…”
He swallowed, not finishing the sentence.
“She would want that for you,” I said. “She’d want you to live.”
Braden considered it for a moment before he was shooing me out of the way, lining himself up under the bar. He was quiet for his set, and then he sat up, wiping his face with his towel.
“I have my role to play,” he answered simply.
And with that, our conversation was over, all focus shifting to weights.
Madelyn
“It looks like a banana!”
I covered my smile as Sebastian stood on a stepstool next to Kyle, pointing at his pancake creation.
“That’s his mouth!” Kyle argued. “See? These two little pancakes are the eyes, and this is the smile.”
“It looks like a banana!”
Sebastian bit back his giggle, eyes cast up at Kyle, and Kyle stood there with his spatula hovering in the air and his eyes narrowing on my son.
“I see,” Kyle said. “You think you’re soooo funny, don’t you?”
Then, he proceeded to tickle Sebastian mercilessly, abandoning the griddle altogether when he picked Sebastian up and carried him over to the couch. Kyle lifted him high before dropping him into the cushions, and my son let out his signature gut-busting laugh when he hit them and bounced a full foot into the air.
It was my favorite sound in the world.
The summer was rushing to an end. Kyle had his first day of training camp on Monday, and though we’d seen each other as much as we could, it still felt like time was whizzing by.
