Page 3 of Tiger Lilies and Tight Ends

“Does he even realize you’ve left him? Yes, he called looking for you, but I just assumed he’s being his typical self-absorbed self and didn’t pay attention when you told him what you were up to.”

“He knows. I don’t know how he couldn’t. I emptied my side of the closet and the bathroom and took all of my things. It’s also been six weeks.”

“What about the rest of your stuff? Do I need to go and get it?”

Anxiety and a crushing wave of sadness roll over me. How depressing is it that I spent eight years with him, and all I really have to show for it is what I packed in my car. No real treasured memorabilia, nothing that means the world to me to cling on to. Just a few boxes that are like a beacon light shining on what our relationship was and wasn’t.

“I really didn’t have anything else. He hired a decorator to furnish the house, I didn’t have much in my office, there’s a coffee shop I always went to when he was in town, and I don’t want anything from the kitchen. He can have it all. It’s just stuff, and honestly, none of it ever felt like mine.”

He sighs as he thinks about what I’ve said. I can feel the tension and pity leaking through the phone line from him. “You know, once he realizes you aren’t coming back, he isn’t going to like that you left him. He’ll spin this somehow to make you the villain."

“I really don’t care. There’s no other way around that. It is what it is. I just want to disappear for a while, figure out maybe what my life goals and dreams are now that I can have them, and hopefully, all this will blow over and people will forget about me.”

“You and your life goals.” He chuckles.

“I’ll have you know, I happen to like this characteristic about me.”

“Oh, we all do. Especially when you send out family vacation itineraries. It’s like I just need to pack and show up, and you’ve planned the best trip ever.”

My chest warms, and I smile. “I’m assuming there’s a compliment in there.”

“Always. How long are you staying in North Carolina?”

My gaze travels back out to the lake and catches on a person kayaking. The way they precisely and fluidly swing the paddle from side to side is hypnotic, and I stare after them.

“I have two weeks left here, and then the house is rented out to someone else.”

“Where do you think you’ll go?” he asks.

“That’s part of what I need to figure out. While I love living in this rental house, I don’t love the price. I could do better, but I’m just not sure where yet. The skies are the limit, and I don’t feel like I’ve ever really had that option before.”

Where I’m going next is probably one of the things I’ve thought about the most since arriving. All these years with Dean, his career dictated where we lived, but now I’m free. We met in college in Miami, where it’s super hot. We lived in DC, and while it’s not a huge city, it has so much culture and great food, but it gets cold. So these are the basic things I’m trying to figure out. North or south? East or west? City or rural? Mountains or beach? House or apartment? While I make a decent amount of income, along with being a planner, I’m very tight with how and where I spend my money, which plays into every decision.

“What if I had a temporary place in mind for you? Would you consider it?”

“At this point, I’d consider a box. All options are on the table.”

He chuckles. “Well, I assure you, it’s much better than a box. The house isn’t too big, but it would be a place to crash for a while without having to pay anything, and you’d definitely be hidden.”

“A free place to live? I’m intrigued. Tell me more.”

Chapter 1

Tyler

Drills with the team were brutal today. Well, not necessarily the team, but with Ryder, our rookie linebacker. You’d think I have a Mafia hit out on my head for as hard as he was tackling me, but then again, maybe I’m just starting to feel my age.

I’m twenty-nine years old and a tight end for the Tampa Tarpons, a professional football team. The peak performance for a tight end in the NFL is usually from ages twenty-five to twenty-seven, and the average tight end retires around twenty-seven and a half. I’m not oblivious to the fact that I’m on borrowed time. I’m also not immune to the hits anymore. My body aches and feels every play so much more than it did when I joined the Tarpons at twenty-two. Do I think I’m in the best shape of my life? Yes, but that doesn’t change how the hits feel.

In just a few weeks, I’m about to kick off my eighth season with the Tarpons. Every year, I say a little prayer that they let me stay, and I’ve found myself incredibly blessed and grateful to have been with the same team for my entire career. And don’t get me started on how much these guys feel like family.

Especially Jonah and my girl Vivi.

It’s funny how you don’t know that you need something or someone until they show up and become a part of your life. Jonah has been with the team for two and a half years now, and next to Lance, who I’ve known the longest, he is my best friend.

Speaking of Lance, his name and ugly mug flash across the digital screen in my truck. I smile at the image because if he knew I had it, he would kick my ass.

Lance was my college freshman roommate in the athletes’ dorm. And little did I know at the time, he would become my only roommate. We stuck together for four years and quickly moved from the freshman dorm to an apartment.