Fallon
Present day
I was damn good at keeping secrets. It was what I’d done for years as personal assistant to NFL superstar and future Hall of Famer, Devlin “Devil” Summers. I’d covered for him as he’d hidden being gay in the macho world of football and being in love with his teammate, Brody Martin.
But now that he’d retired and come out, he no longer needed me in the same highly intense capacity as when he’d been an active player. Don’t get me wrong. People still loved him as an NFL commentator and sports show host, but it wasn’t the same as being the franchise quarterback and face of the Brooklyn Kings. And while I knew he’d keep me, full workload or not, it wasn’t enough. I needed my days filled with making appointments and spreadsheets. Being necessary. Busy. Working hard so I didn’t have time to think I had nothing else in my life but calendar dates to fill up for other people.
Here I was, thirty-one years old with zero life plan. I’d done the college thing, and nothing called to me as a career. Living away from everyone I knew and everything familiar had been tough—I’d spent most of the four years mourning the death ofmy older brother, Rory, and my parents’ complete erasure of my existence. I wasn’t whom they wanted for a son. It was for the best, as it turned out, to be on the West Coast for those years, far away from memories and pain.
Thank God for Dev, who, as Rory’s childhood best friend, had stepped in and saved me—paying all my expenses for the four years of college, no questions asked.
“I know how being away from home can make you do stupid things.”
But I had little time to dwell on my past or any other problems. Dev called, sounding frantic.
“Fallon, dude, I know it’s Sunday and your day off, but I forgot my dress shirt and sports jacket in my apartment. Can you grab them and get to the stadium? I’m really sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Yeah, sure, of course. They don’t have extras lying around for hotshots like you?” I joked, already on the move.
“Cute. Trust me, I’ve gotten my spanking from Shane and JJ.”
I smiled to myself. As together and focused as Dev had been in his playing career, he was a bit of a shit show in this new role of television sports announcer.
“I bet. Maybe you still need a personal assistant. Just saying.”
“We’ll talk when you get here. I owe you one.”
Something in his tone stopped me in my tracks. I lived only a few minutes away and had quickly reached Dev and Brody’s loft in Tribeca. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing, I swear.” An edge crept into his voice. “Just get here as fast as you can, please.”
“I’m at your place.” I used my key to enter the building and another for the private elevator that would take me directly to their apartment.
“Thanks. Sorry to make you do this.”
“No worries. You know I’m always here for you.”
It was true. I loved working for Dev. He was fun, kind, paid me extremely well, and never treated me like I was the annoying kid brother of his best friend from elementary school. He and Brody had become the family I’d lost.
I entered their apartment and found the shirt and sport jacket hanging on the back of the bedroom door. Within minutes I was retracing my steps and calling for a car. By the time I reached the lobby, I spied it waiting for me at the curb. I sighed and rested my head on the leather seat as we headed to the stadium. Traffic was lousy as usual for a Sunday, and I closed my eyes. Maybe one day I’d get up the nerve and learn to drive, but every time I thought about getting behind the wheel, I got palpitations. Knowing Rory’s last moments had been in a car careening out of control kept me a passenger for life.
Fortunately, before I had a chance to get too into my head, I got a call from a headhunter who’d been after me ever since Dev had retired. Instead of ducking his call yet again, I decided to hear what he had to say.
“Hey, Norm, how’s it going?”
“I’m good. Did you see I sent three good offers? Have you had any thoughts on them? They’re really anxious.”
Hmm. They might be, but I wasn’t. “No, not yet. I’m still working for Devlin Summers—matter of fact, I’m on my way to the stadium now for him.”
“You’re being foolish.” He huffed, his frustration evident. “You’ve basically been demoted to a gofer, and you know you can handle so much more.”
I winced at the truth, but I had my reasons. “Listen, I’ll call you next week. Promise.”
Forty minutes later, we pulled into the parking lot, and I got out and flashed my pass, allowing me to bypass the crowds. Clothes in hand, I hustled to the media area, holding up my credentials, and found Dev in theNFL Weeklybooth. His frantic face transformed to relief when he spotted me, and he motioned with his hand.
“Fallon, thank God. You’re a lifesaver.” He grabbed the button-down and sports jacket, and in the middle of the booth, stripped off his tee and slipped his arms into the shirt. In the adjacent media booth, I spotted Brody joking with his cohosts. He caught my eye and waved, laughing and shaking his head at his husband, obviously knowing why I was there.
“Iama lifesaver,” I joked. “So why’re you trying to get rid of me?” My tone was cheerful, but Dev frowned as he put on the sports jacket.
