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“I’ve been thinking about this. Yeah, there’s a baby, but I don’t believe Taylor is the father, and I think Kyan is right. Some person, or persons, planned all this.”
Linnea’s brows drew together. “I still don’t see how.”
“Chloe, can you get me your iPad, sweetheart?”
Brendan logged into Facebook and pulled up the profile for Shelley Tompkins. There she was with an untagged friend in front of Venery’s tour bus. She looked so young. So fucking thrilled and excited to be standing there.
“Notice the caption and the hashtags.”
Jesse read them aloud, “Best day of my life…hashtag I love Taylor, hashtag Taylor Kerrigan, hashtag Venery. Yeah, so?”
“Hashtags are searchable.” Realization dawned on Linnea’s face.
Brendan nodded. “Exactly, and if you read the comments with the post, the girl makes it undeniably clear she went inside that bus.” He scrolled up. “This is her last post. August.”
“I hope it’s a boy that looks just like his daddy,” Linnea recited and glanced to Chloe. Jesse could have sworn tears glistened in her light green eyes.
Brendan leaned back against the sofa. “See? Not so crazy now, eh? Young girl. Probably scared and a little desperate. Offer her some money to make a claim, file a suit. Feed the story to the tabloids.”
Shit.
“Makes sense,” Kyan agreed. “Whoever it is went to a lot of trouble, though, if you’re right.”
“Oh, I’m pretty sure I’m right.” Brendan leaned over and kissed Chloe’s cheek. “This is going to get ugly, sweetheart, and I’m sorry. Just remember we all love you.” He squeezed her shoulder. “We’ve got you.”
“Ugly?”
Jesse loved Linnea, but she was so naive and innocent to the ways of the world outside of the bubble she lived in. Not that he faulted her for it.
“The press. Gossip rags. Social media. Trolls. People are ignorant and vicious. They can be vile and cruel. It’s just so easy for them to spew their bullshit from a keyboard.” Jesse released a long breath.
He knew that better than anyone here. The number of balls he caught, yards he ran, or touchdowns he scored was always followed up with speculation of who he was fucking or if he was gay. Why the fuck should it even matter? His sex life didn’t have anything to do with football, but it must have mattered because reporters and paps followed him everywhere to find out. He loved football, loved playing for Baltimore, but his life off the field meant more to him than the game ever could.
“And that’s why I gave it all up,” Jesse said, and Chloe squeezed his hand. “It was only a matter of time before they would have figured out me and Taylor were more than friends. Venery got their first gold album year before. Then Uncle Charley died.”
Brendan cocked his head and chewed on the inside corner of his mouth. “So when you hurt your knee in training camp…”
“It wasn’t a career-ending injury.” Jesse shrugged. “But it was a way out and I took it.”
He’d never admitted this to anyone before, except Taylor. No one else would’ve understood.
“Jesse.” Brendan’s jaw went slack and he slowly shook his head. “You were third in the fucking league your last season. Third!”
87 receptions. 1,433 yards. 11 touchdowns.
He smiled. “I know.”
“I guess you gave it up for nothing.” Chloe laid her head on his shoulder.
What’s meant for you won’t go by you.
Jesse hugged her and kissed the top of her head. “Nah.” With one finger on her chin he turned her face toward his. “I got to go into business with my cousins, open a club, a restaurant, fall in love with the most beautiful woman in the world—I married her too.” He kissed her lips. “I got to build a life and a family instead, and that’s what I really wished for.”
Chloe smiled up at him. “I love you.”
“I love you too, babe.”
“Can we go see Tay?”
