“Took the inside track?” He chuckles. “Bro, you blew past his outside shoulder like he was standing still.” I can picture Ace pacing around wherever he is, gesturing wildly. “Saint was a killer, filling the gap on that fumble recovery too. You guys look dangerous on film. That interior push is insane.”
“Yeah, Saint’s a monster. He bulldozes the double-team almost every snap,” I say, opening the door to the house. I don’t say anything about the film comment. And I don’t mention Samantha’s interview, and I sure as hell don’t mention Eva, who, I have no doubt, fed Sam that question about my endurance just to mess with me.
“How was your game? I haven’t had a chance to watch highlights yet. I’m just getting home.”
“It was good. Three touchdowns against a top-five run defense isn’t a bad way to start the season. But this fuckin’ humidity down here is no joke. I feel like I’m breathing in mud, but that won’t stop me from makin’ the big plays,” he says, and I hear his signature confidence in his voice.
As a starting running back for the Florida Sharks, he’s been soaking in the sunshine and the media attention since the day he got drafted. He’s the perfect golden boy with his blond hair, blue eyes, and bravado.
“On that second touchdown, their middle linebacker tried to hit me high in the hold. Fucker. I got around him, bounced it outside, and left him on the ground. You know how we do.”
“Standard Griffith procedure,” I add, a faint smile playing on my lips.
“That’s right. Hold on for a sec,” he says, and it sounds like he tilts the phone away from his mouth because his voice is muffled. “Okay, sorry about that. You should see what I’m looking at right now. Soleil is wearing this white bikini that could probably pass as dental floss, and she wants all my attention. She’s trying to get me in the pool to celebrate my touchdowns properly,” he says, laughing.
My chest tightens, a complicated knot of relief working through me. “Sounds like you’re really suffering, Acer.”
“Oh, yeah. Brutal,” he murmurs, the music in the background getting louder. “Seriously though, this girl is wild. Last night, we didn’t even make it to the bedroom. Right on the kitchen counter. I swear, my hamstrings are tighter more from her than the game. She’s a masterpiece.”
I let out a forced laugh. “All right, I don’t need details, but I’m happy for you, brother.”
“Hey, I’m just putting it out there. You need to get yourself a girl. Any girl. You’ve been living like a monk since the draft. You’re one of the biggest faces on that defense, and you’ve got the social life of an old man. It’s pretty fuckin’ sad.”
I almost choke on my laugh. If he only knew. The memory of Eva’s hands tearing at my shirt and digging her nails into my back flashes vividly in my mind.
“I’ve gotta stay focused on the game, Ace,” I counter, keeping my voice light.
“Whatever, man. I’m just sayin’, you need to get laid,” he says, and I hear splashing in the background. “Hey, Soleil is pretty much dragging me into the water now. Great game tonight. Seriously. Tell Mom I’ll call her tomorrow if you talk to her tonight.”
“Will do. Keep it wrapped, Ace.”
“Always. Love you, man.”
He doesn’t wait for me to reply, and the line goes dead.
Ace is happy. He’s running wild in Florida, dating lingerie models, living loud, and definitely not thinking about the girl who broke his heart two years ago. Hearing him talk about his girl should make my guilt disappear. It should justify the fact that I slept with Eva.
But it doesn’t. It just makes the secret I’m keeping from my twin a little heavier. We don’t lie to each other, and I’ve never kept anything from him. Ever.
I grab a drawing pencil, my leather journal, and a beer frommy fridge and make my way to my patio. An infinity pool stretches out all the way to the tree line, and the soft light from the pool contrasts against the black of the night sky. I sit down on the couch, set my journal and pencil next to me, and put my feet up on the table in front of me, and lean my head back against the cushion, looking up at the stars.
The sky here isn’t as big as it is back home.
Speaking of home … I lift my phone and reply to my dad’s congratulatory text, then hit my mom’s number for a call. She answers on the second ring.
“Hey, honey.”
“Hey, Mama.”
“You just getting home?” Her warm Texas drawl flows through, making me feel like I’m back on the porch at the ranch rather than miles away from home.
“Yeah, just a few minutes ago. Just sittin’ out on my back porch. The weather’s starting to get cooler at night, so I want to soak it in while it lasts.”
“Well, you had a great game tonight. Played your heart out, like always. Your dad and I were screamin’ so loud that I think we rattled the cows in the pasture. I’m surprised I have a voice at all between your game and Ace’s. Thank God Archie and Aiden weren’t playing tonight. I would have for sure lost it from yellin’.”
“Thanks, Mama,” I say, the tension in my shoulders melting. “It was a good game.”
“You looked like a giant out there,” she says, her tone shifting to a protective-mama-bear tone. “But I saw you take that hard hit in the second quarter. Are you hurt? Don’t lie to me, Aston Griffith.”
