I chug the water sitting in front of me, trying to restart my brain, and a pinch of loneliness makes it hard to swallow. For the first time in a while, I feel like I’m alone even though the room is crowded. Just me.
And the thoughts that never seem to quit.
“Ifeellikewe’reabout to celebrate your eightieth birthday or something,” Teague teases as he slides into the restaurant booth. “We’re definitely here for the early bird special,” he muses while looking at his watch.
“If I was turning eighty, you’d be eighty-five,” I poke at my older brother as we open the menu. Since tomorrow is game day, I’ve got a curfew and a hotel room to get back to. Even if it’s a home game, the team stays together—aiming to keep everyone focused and in bed at a decent time.
He lets out a laugh, one that makes me feel like we’re back home. We’ve always gotten along, for as long as I can remember. Teague was always so excited to show off his little brother who got bigger than him really fast. Not saying we didn’t bicker or torture each other, but the fights were always short lived and we were quick to make up and get into whatever was next.
Teague moved to New York once he graduated from college. He played college football and was damn good, but not good enough for the NFL—especially when an Achilles injury took him out his senior year. The thing my parents always told us was that we could play football if we got good grades. When we played college football, they basically asked us for a blood pact when it came to finishing and graduating with a degree. We both did that—no pact required—and while I got the NFL roster spot, Teagueis a fucking genius and works in data analysis at some tech company in the city.
“No, I love it. I’ll be home to help with bedtime.” He smiles, genuine and bright. Teague is married to his college sweetheart and they have a little girl, who is going to be two in a couple of months.
He loves being a dad and I’m fucking happy he gave me a niece to love on. Being closer to them was a big perk when I got the news about getting traded.
Once we order our food and I quickly sign something for a fan who spotted me, Teague presses, “How much fun are you having with Blair? That has to be wild.” He drinks from his pint glass.
I take a long swig from my iced tea. “It’s fun. That day was really something.”
Teague’s look is long and pointed, brows squished as he gives me a side-eye. “Seriously, keep it down. Wouldn’t want you to start a scene with all that enthusiasm you’ve got there.” He whispers loudly, sarcasm flying, hands pushing down on something invisible in front of him.
“No, it’s cool.” I shrug my shoulders. “She’s out here doing something no one’s ever done. Happy to be part of it.” I try to make it sound like I’m not talking about something like a loose paperclip at the bottom of a drawer, but even I know it falls flat.
Teague leans back into the booth, crossing his arms. He slowly shakes his head as he presses his lips together, before they morph into a grin. And then he’s laughing to himself, eyes glancing at the ceiling.
What the hell?
“Care to share with the group?” I try to sound light and easy going but if anyone can read it as bullshit, it’s Teague.
“You’re finally going to come clean. I can feel it.” He claps his hands together, rubbing them before leaning forward on the table.
I take another drink, my brows lifted, and when I don’t say anything, he rolls his eyes.
“About Blair.”
Playing as dumb as I can, I respond, “What about her?”
Shaking his head, he whispers, “Come on. We talk about everything… including how you think this might be your last contract in the NFL, but you’re really going to make me say it?” His hands are flat on the table, his wedding ring clinking at the contact, and he lets the silence run between us. “Blair. You love her. You’ve always been in love with her. Maybe you’ve always known, maybe not, but now it’s different.”
Choosing to ignore the one time we talked about how I felt my time was running out for the NFL, I reply, “That’s quite the theory you have there.” I respond without catching his eyes, because I’m this close to cracking. I feel like the bastard knows it, too.
“Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it. Or, I could help you.”
He’s right; we’ve never had this conversation. When I came home and told my family about Blair, everyone jumped to the idea of her being my girlfriend, but I quickly corrected them. We were alwaysjust friends. And then she was mybestfriend. And then she was coming home with me during some of the holidays, and my family loved her. My parents always told me they’d take Blair any way they could get her.
Teague asked me about it once. It was our junior year, the third Thanksgiving I’d brought her home for, and she fell asleep in my bed. I was in the hallway, grabbing blankets so I could make a bed on the floor, just not wanting to leave her side. Teague saw me, peeked his head in my room, and asked me point blank: are you in love with this girl or something? I scoffed, shook my head, and tried to convince my older brother he had no idea what he was talking about.
But deep down, I knew I was. I always had these feelings for Blair that were difficult to characterize. From the first day I saved her, even the night Isaw her with her boyfriend at the athlete mixer, there was something about her I couldn’t shake.
Maybe it’s because I’m ready, or dying, to talk about it. Figure out what to do.
I let out a breath and come to terms with the fact that I’m caught. “What would you suggest?”
“I fucking knew it. All these years, I knew it!” Excitement fills his face and it makes me want to punch him in the arm so he’ll shut up, while also getting out a notepad and pen and taking whatever advice he can give me. “What’s the issue? You’re back in the same place and you’re going to be regularly seeing each other.”
The air hardly fills my lungs, and I can barely look at him when I say, “I don’t know. She’s never made a move or said anything. But neither have I. And now it’s the football thing.” I know I’m not making much sense, no matter how much Teague is trying to keep up. “After the game, she was at my place. She had some drinks and I was putting her to bed, all platonic like, and she said something. For the first time.”
“You’re actually killing me, you know that? Get on with it. What’d she say?” His voice matches the smirk he wears, glowing eyes to match.
