“I know she’s not your favorite person,” Ben hedges, his hand running over the back of his neck. “But she’s staying with us for the time being so…”
“It’s fine.” I shrug. It has to be. It’s been way too damn long for me to still feel anything about her, especially since she made it pretty damn clear how she felt about me. Or rather, didn’t feel. I was a dumb kid with an already broken heart who didn’t listen to her when she warned me that catching feelings was not in her wheelhouse.
“Sounds like there’ll be quite a few people, so I don’t think you’ll have to talk.”
I flash him a reassuring smile. “Hey, it’s no big deal. It was years ago. We both moved on a long time ago. We were fuckin’ kids. Or at least I was.”
Years and a lifetime ago. I’d been a junior in college. The starting QB for the championship team, and she’d been working on an MFA in photography. If it hadn’t been for Ben and Violet, I doubt our paths would have ever crossed. We are nothing alike.
I was raised in small-town Nebraska on a farm with a mom and dad who put emphasis on family dinners, Midwestern manners, and football as a part-time religion. She’d grown up in Chicago, an only child with a single mom who died young, and her only religion was art, with a side of sex and music. But despite all the reasons we didn’t make sense, she’d been a soft place for me to land. When everything went to hell my junior year despite all outward appearances making it look like the best in my life, she was there.
At least she had been for a while. Until I said too much, and she ran like hell. Guess I’d be finding out tonight if time really does heal all wounds.
“Nothing still left there?” Ben asks quietly because if anyone understood pining after the older woman who doesn’t care if you exist or not, he did.
“Nah. How could there be? I have no idea who she is anymore. And she definitely doesn’t know me.”
“You never know, maybe she developed an obsession with football stats in her free time.” Ben can’t even keep a straight face as he says it, and we both end up laughing harder than necessary.
“Something funny?” Waylon appears at my side, he’s the center for our team and one of Ben’s friends from Highland State. I came later after Waylon had already been drafted to the pros, but we’d grown close since we both played ball for the Phantom.
“Thinking about an alternate universe where Violet’s friend, Joss, is a football statistician,” Ben explains.
Waylon raises a brow as he pulls his long blond hair back into a low bun. “Do I want to ask?”
“She’s coming to stay with us for a while. She and Colt have some history.”
“With Joss?” Waylon looks perplexed at that idea because anyone who knows anything about her would. I’m not the kind of guy who ends up on her radar, let alone in her bed.
“Ancient fucking history,” I mutter, shaking my head and eyeing Ben for opening his mouth. Not that I don’t trust Waylon, but the less people know about it the better.
“I see.” Waylon looks me over like he’s trying to figure out how that puzzle fits.
“It was after I broke up with Kate.” Another woman I could do without—my high school girlfriend who made me promise to wait for her when I transferred colleges, the one I’d been waiting for since we got together sophomore year, only to cheat on me with the quarterback on my former college team. The same quarterback who made it necessary for me to find a new team if I ever wanted a starting position.
The more I think about it, the more I realize it was a really fucking bad year for me when it came to luck with relationships or lack thereof. Unfortunately, while Joss was largely something of a legendary character who only really existed in Violet’s stories about her adventures overseas, Kate still liked to make herself known in the present as a sports reporter who seemed to be getting assigned to my games with an increasing frequency. While I feel like that’s a chapter happily put to rest, I’ve been getting the feeling that despite the fact she’s married—she’s been hoping the book could be opened again.
“Well that’s a surprise.” Waylon looks me over again. “I thought you were more the fifties housewife type.”
“No one inviting me to the conference? Harsh.” Tobias grips his chest dramatically. “Where’s the fifties-housewife? I love a good game of dress her up, fuck her down. And those vintage dresses, fuck yes. Sign me up.”
Tobias Westfield is my other wide receiver. He’s a little older than Ben, from a football dynasty family, and the current crown-holding libertine of the team now that Alexander Xavier’s stepped down in favor of monogamy.
“Is it necessary to hear about every single one of your fantasies?” I give Tobias a look.
“Just hoping one will inspire you out of your rut, Priest.” He grins wide at me.
“There’s no fifties-housewife. Just apparently Colton has a history with one of Violet’s friends.” Waylon grins, and now I know they’re about to gang up on me.
“Oh yeah? You think he had a life before he decided on a strict diet of celibacy and reflection?” Tobias smirks.
“Sounds like it.” Waylon needles.
“So what brought her up?” Tobias asks.
“She’s coming to town to stay with Violet and Ben.” I can hear the tone in Waylon’s voice, and I shift my weight, pretending to be interested in the latest movement on the field. Watching Xander as he takes a guy down.
“Oh, that’s gonna be fucking good. Can’t wait. When does she get here?”
