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He still holds me like our bodies were made to fit together.
He still causes feelings to pulse in me the likes of which have not been met since him.
I’ve tried. Over the years, I’ve sampled enough of the menu to know that what we had was once in a lifetime.
But just because it was special doesn’t mean it was meant to last.
I try to convince myself it was nothing more than a teenage crush getting the guy. Deep down I know it was far more than that, but thinking about it that way allows me to pretend like it didn’t mean as much as it did. It allows me to bury those feelings down deep.
It allows me to move forward and live my life, focusing on my son and my career.
“Fine,” she huffs.
“I should go home and start packing. I’ll have to give my notice to my landlord, and there’s a million things to do with the season starting soon, and don’t forget about the—”
“Take a breath, girl.” She shakes her head. “Listen, all that other stuff will work out. If you want to revel in the feel of his lips on yours with your best friend for a minute, it’s okay. It’s not like I’m going to run and tell your parents on you.”
Right.
My parents.
How would my dad feel if he saw the photos Rivera took of us?
He’d feel betrayed. He’d feel hurt. He’d feel like I’m sleeping with the enemy.
But at what point do I give into my own needs and set aside my family’s feelings?
If I had the answer to that question, I might have a better idea of how to move forward.
But I don’t, and so the only option at this point is complete and total avoidance.
Except that’s not possible given our jobs.
I am so fucked.
CHAPTER 2: LINCOLN
“Do whatever it takes to get him here,” Jack says at our meeting on Monday morning. “We’ve got huge shoes to fill with Ben Olson’s retirement and while I know Austin Graham is solid out there, I’ve seen what your brother can do. Let’s get it done. I just need your assurance you can coach him the same way you coach the rest of your players.”
“Of course,” I say flippantly, a little insulted he’d even mention that.
“Be prepared to answer that question a thousand times over,” he warns me, and he turns to Steve. “Can you get on it?”
Steve nods his agreement. “I’ll get in touch with his agent this morning.”
“I think we need Ben Olson on our staff for tight ends, too,” Jack adds. “Imagine what he’d do with your brother.”
“Would he want to coach?” I ask.
Jack shrugs. “I know he wants to focus on his girls and his health clubs for the next year or so, but I don’t think it’s out of the question for next year, and I imagine he’ll work like Luke does—as a consultant with this team’s best interests in mind.”
Hell of a way to stay connected to the game—to be a consultant who doesn’t have to travel to every away game and can work more of a normal schedule than what we put in. But if it means having guys like Luke and Ben and their expertise around, it’s well worth it.
“Anything else?” Jack asks.
“I do have one more thing. Potentially.” I nearly say this stays between us, but I’m confident that anything spoken inside the walls of this office stays between the three men sitting here.
Both Jack and Steve turn toward me.
