Page 111 of The Backup Plan

My brother’s voice is in my ear, familiar and annoying.

“An away game this week. How are you feeling about it?” Brendan asks.

I lean back against the kitchen counter and stare at the city lights bleeding through the window. “Like I need more playing time to prove myself.”

“You’ve proven yourself for thirteen years. There isn’t much more you can do than that.”

“I know but with coming off this shoulder—”

“Why are you doubting yourself? Your value is in your experience as much as it is in your skill.”

“That only matters if somebody—the coaches see it.”

He exhales. “You’re worried.”

I nod more to myself than to him. “Of course, I am. Second preseason game is this weekend. Roster cuts will be made after—or before—the third one. Then the season starts.”

That two-week countdown is wearing on me, but I just keep going out there and playing my game.

“Well, you need to be on the field on Sunday so you can prove yourself more if that’s even possible.”

“It’s anyone’s guess what a coach is looking for besides talent and doing well under pressure.” I roll my shoulder. The ache is there. No matter how good it feels otherwise, there is always that ache there. “I didn’t come this far to be cut.”

“And you didn’t go that far to sleep with the doctor either, but here we are.”

I cough over a laugh. “What?”

“Oh, come on. You’re only answering my texts with one-word responses. You’re too busy to answer my calls unless I catch you off guard and you pick up like you did just now. You’re only talking about football. Do I need to point out any more ways you’re trying to avoid answering the question?”

“You’re an ass.” I laugh though.

“And I’m the one who told you to break the rules and go for it, so I’m not sure why you feel the need to hide it.”

“I don’t, it’s just . . .”

“Good. Bad. Incredible. Too much effort. Not good enough sex—”

“Jesus, dude. Let me speak.” He laughs like the asshole he is. “How about I don’t want to talk about it because I don’t want to jinx it?”

“That good huh?”

That’s the crux of it, isn’t it?

It’s just that good.

Before I can say anything else, there’s a sharp knock on the door, and while I love my brother, I’m pretty sure I prefer to spend my evening with the person doing the knocking.

“I have to go,” I say.

Brendan chuckles. “I’m sure you do.”

I hang up without saying anything else.

When I open the door, everything in my body locks up.

Emery is standing there with a coat buttoned to her chin, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes dark and nervous and determined.

I fight the urge to yank her against me and take until I can’t take anymore. I’ll probably do that in a second, but first I’ll use a few manners.