Gray looked up at me as I warred internally, and his smirk as he straightened his practice shirt let me know he knew exactly what I was thinking. I almost apologized, but his low chuckle as he passed me made me lose my guilt and revert back to wanting to punch him. Again.
I had to get over this.
Shaking my head, I followed the twins out of the locker room to the practice area, and with a heavy sigh, I started running laps. It was what every athlete wanted to do at six-fifteen on a Monday morning in the cold November air. Sometimes, and they were few and far between, I reminded myself that a computer analyst didn’t do this. They probably slept until eight, maybe had a light breakfast, commuted to work, and did a nine-to-five job like a normal person.
Then I would remind myself that sitting at a desk from nine to five would slowly kill me. I loved my sport, and I knew how fragile my position within a team, any team, was. There was noIin team sports, and for the cocky shits who told you there was a “me” in teams, they’d never been part of a team to understand the mentality.
Team sports, like football, were a brotherhood. I was related to two men on this team, but that meant shit. On the field, I was just as loyal to the eight other men on the field, the eleven on the defense, and the thirty or so who made up the rest of the team.
I would play in the NFL. I knew I would. I was good, I knew it. I also knew I could be better, and it was that need to be better that drove me forward every day. Every time I set foot on the turf, nothing else mattered. My issue with Gray was forgotten when we were talking routes, drives, and strategy.
I had no enemies in this stadium. The only person who could fuck up my ambition was myself, and despite what people may think, I was just as focused as my cousins.
Jett looked over at me as he ran easily beside me, and we shared a smile as we ran. Gray ran on the other side of his brother, and as I leaned forward slightly, I saw his face was the blank mask he always wore, letting me know that Gray was in the zone and we’d need to physically stop him from running.
As we ran in silence, I knew why I was so focused. I actually enjoyed the laps, I enjoyed the exercise, and since I could hear the grumblings from my teammates behind us — those who didn’t run for fun — Jett put some speed to his run. Following him, Gray and I did the same, pulling away from the others, leaving the voices of dissent behind us.
The whistle blowing a while later pulled me back to the field where Coach stood with two huge bags of balls beside him. The practice pads were already set up, and I reached out and caught Gray’s arm to slow his run, because as I predicted, he was deep within his thoughts.
“Think I had another few in me,” Gray mumbled to us both as we headed to the center of the field.
“Finding your Zen?” Jett asked him, and although his tone was light, I saw the tension around his eyes as he watched his brother.
“Yeah, clearest my head’s been in a while, now that I’ve got Quinn,” Gray confessed, and then I saw him remember I was beside him. “Sorry.”
“For?”
Gray sighed and worked his arm backward and forward, his good hand pressed into his shoulder as he loosened the tightness. “All of it? None of it? I no longer know.”
Jett had been right earlier; this wasn’t the time, and this wasn’t the place. “You can’t lose it,” I reminded him, choosing to ignore his half-assed apology.
“I won’t,” Gray replied.
Jett reached out and touched his brother’s elbow, letting him know he was at his side. It was a gesture I don’t think either of them consciously recognized that they did. It was as if they were checking in with each other, making sure the other wasn’t struggling. Sometimes, I envied them for that. Sure, we were family, but they were brothers; worse than that, twins, and I didn’t have that bond.
Then I realized that when Jett turned from his brother and moments later his hand clasped my shoulder as he passed me to go to Coach, they both did it with me. Frowning, I rubbed my hand over my shoulder and caught Gray watching me. He missed nothing, that cousin of mine. With a rueful smile, I headed over to the cones, ready to run my drills for the day. I realized that I didn’t mind how attuned we all were.
“Single leg hops, then fast feet drills,” Coach barked at the offense. “Santo, twenty-two, not you, you’re on Swiss ball squats. Santo, eight, loosen up the throwing arm.” Coach’s hard eyes met mine. “Santo, eighty-seven, set the pace. Show them how it’s done.” He turned to shout orders to the defense, and with a resigned sigh, I set about the drills that would improve my speed and precision when playing, knowing that somewhere,a computer analyst was enjoying a hot breakfast, coffee, and probably an extra hour in his bed.
Lucky bastard that he was, I knew I didn’t envy him at all.
* * *
After practice, we left the stadium each with our own aches and pains. My back was still sore, my hip had eased, and my legs were now sore for their own reasons, and not the fact Red’s bed was narrow.
Ava and Quinn were outside, holding steaming coffee cups, and I think I actually saw the hint of a halo around each of their heads.
“Hi,” Ava greeted cheerily. “I bring the nectar of the gods.” She held up the coffee carrier as we all reached for one.
“And I bring the food of . . . well, the kitchen,” Quinn said as she held up a paper bag. “But it still counts.”
“Gloop?” I asked hesitantly.
“No.” She smiled at me, and I noticed how much easier she was around me, now that her secret was out. “I made you . . .” She dug into the bag and pulled out a wrapped package. “A breakfast wrap.”
I could have kissed her. Hearing a not-so-subtle warning grunt from the man to my left, I realized I may have made my intent clear. With a welcoming smile, I gratefully took the offered wrap. “You can do this every training day if you like,” I said as I unwrapped my wrap and took a coffee from Ava. “Where’s Red?”
“Mia,” Ava stressed her name, and I grinned around my wrap, as she rolled her eyes in answer, “is already at class.”
