I blame my brother.
Looked like the BBQ had enough excitement without me there.
My reply borders on snarky, but it’s the truth. I’m certain there’s not a single person on the West Coast who hasn’t seen the viral video of the Bears’ new coach running across the stadium with a beautiful, injured redhead in his arms as he rushed her to the team doctor. The press ate it up.
Dropping my cell into the cupholder, I put my car in reverse, backing out of my parking spot. It’s almost three in the morning—there’s no way I’ll get a response from Gareth tonight so there’s no point in lingering.
Another yawn hits me at full force as I pull onto the main road and head in the direction of my modest townhouse. It’s just a rental, but it’s cozy, and I’ve been there since I moved back to Ridgewood.
I’m surprised when my phone illuminates a few minutes later, the wordsGolden Boydisplayed across the screen.
Why the hell is he up so late?
Steam rolls off my bathwater, and my skin immediately turns cherry when I step in. Every muscle aches down to my bones. It’s four in the morning, but I don’t care. I need this desperately.
Sinking beneath the scorching heat, I lean back, exhaling a breath as I hold my phone at eye level, rereading the message from Gareth.
Come to the game tomorrow.
It’s not an invitation so much as it is a plea. I can practically hear the softness in his voice, the hope in his tone as I read the message for what has to be the fortieth time.
Every home game, every Bears function, Gareth invites me.
I always say no.
Gareth Fox is the one that got away. I’ve forgiven him for that night, although it still hurts like hell; the sting rises through every cell in my body at the mere thought of him, but it’s not for lack of forgiveness. Gareth was once my best friend, and he’s always been Dylan’s. I’d hoped we’d get back to that, but it seems we drew a line in the sand that night and stopped dancing around the attraction we had for each other.
We put my brother first, and as much as I’d love to resent him for that, Dylan’s just too important to us both. I love him more than I love myself, obviously, since I’ve all but given up on the love of my life for him.
Swallowing thickly, my fingers skip over the screen of my phone as I decline yet another invitation to a Bears game.
I can’t.
His response comes through immediately.
You can, you just don’t want to. Why?
You know why.
Why is he even awake? It’s the middle of the night. Normal people are tucked into their warm beds.
It’s just a game, Indy. You’ve never watched me play.
Because being around you hurts too bad.
I don’t say it, not in a message or out loud. But I think it, repeating it like a mantra. It doesn’t matter if I’m physically there because I watch every game, cheering him on silently from wherever I’m at.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I envision his face, and I can’t help the smile that touches my lips.
Vibration in my hand has my focus snapping back to the phone.
Dylan will be there.
He dangles the same carrot that almost works every time. If I go when Dylan’s there, he’ll not only act as a buffer, but as a safety net. Dylan and Indy going to Gareth’s game? Normal. A fun day out. Indy going alone…
God, this is so stupid. We’re both grown adults, but I still feel like a damn lovesick teenager caught between right and wrong.
CHAPTER TWO
