Page 9 of All This Time (Blossom Peak #1)

Fletcher

Present Day

Blackjack and Brews

“Aw, Rhonan. You’re gonna make me cry.” With my hand pressed to my chest, I walk into George Hart’s office in the back of the winery, finding the card table set up and ready for action.

Our obsession with blackjack developed after Rhonan’s dad made us watch 21, the movie where an MIT professor teaches a group of students to count cards then takes them to Vegas to hustle the casinos.

None of us ever got that good at counting cards, but nonetheless, we fell in love with the game and try to play whenever we get together.

“Has playing football professionally made you that soft?” Elliot asks, shoving me as he strides past, draining his beer before heading to the mini fridge George keeps stocked. He pulls out four beers and places them around the green felt, waiting for us.

“Nothing about me is soft,” I say, heading to my seat at the table. “I just can’t remember the last time the four of us have played a game together.”

Rhonan has a stupid grin on his face as he joins Henley, Elliot, and me at the table. “That’s what I thought. What better way to welcome you home, Fletch?”

I settle back in my chair. I’ve only been back in Blossom Peak for about two hours and already I’m being slammed with feelings left and right—gratitude, longing, and a gnawing guilt for not being around more, especially for the people who never stopped showing up for me.

“You know I wouldn’t miss Elliot getting married, dickhead.” I take the beer Elliot got for me and return it to the fridge, taking a water back to the table instead.

Elliot studies me. “You’re seriously not going to drink with us?”

“I told you. I just don’t want to drink tonight.”

“But this is a special occasion,” he fires back. “I’m getting married and you’re home for the first time in almost three years.”

I twist off the cap and chug half of the bottle. “I’m just not much of a drinker anymore.”

Elliot raises a brow while scratching the black scruff on his chin. “You? Fletcher Adams? If memory serves me correctly, you were somewhat of a beer pong champion back in college, right? Or did I dream that?”

“That was back when my body could recover from that shit with just a few hours of sleep. We’re in our thirties now, gentlemen. Alcohol and professional football don’t mix very well.”

All of us have turned thirty-two in the past year, which means we are fully immersed in a new decade with new experiences, one of which is our bodies hurting in places they didn’t before.

I know part of my aches and pains have come from playing football for a living, which makes me apprehensive about how much longer I have in my career.

But as long as I stay healthy and maintain my strength, I could go another three to five years, easily.

It’d be a lot longer than my father got to play, that’s for sure.

Henley clears his throat, darting his eyes to me before he looks back over to Elliot. “The man doesn’t want to drink. Let it go.”

Elliot shrugs before bringing his beer bottle to his lips. “Whatever. More for me.”

I give Henley a small nod in thanks before focusing on Rhonan, who’s busy shuffling cards, getting ready to deal.

This isn’t the time to tell my friends that I haven’t had a drink since my first year in the NFL. Honestly, I’m not sure they’d believe me. But I have my reasons for my decision and reasons for not telling even my best friends.

Some things are better left in the past.

“All right. I can only play a few hands because Ellis will be up with the sun, so less talking and more blackjack.”

“Isn’t Joanne there?” I ask.

“Yes, but I have tomorrow off, so I’ll be the one to get up with Ellis. Joanne is the single best thing that ever happened to us, and I’m not about to take her for granted.”

I nod in understanding. “Fair enough.”

“Besides, she’s old enough to be my mom and scares me a little bit.”

Elliot snorts behind his beer bottle. “Aren’t you her boss?”

“Technically. But I can’t survive without her, so we’re a team.”

Rhonan hired Joanne as a full-time nanny shortly after Ellis was born and his wife died.

With the crazy hours he works as a sheriff, he needed someone who could be in his life day and night.

We all remember how difficult that first year was for him, and he’s correct—he wouldn’t have survived without Joanne’s help.

“That’s how I feel about Tori,” Elliot interjects, a dreamy smile on his face.

“Seriously, Fletcher. You should see this guy now.” Henley juts his thumb toward Elliot, who’s sitting on his right. “He shits rainbows most days. It’s scary how much Tori has changed him.”

Elliot shrugs but doesn’t refute what Henley says. “Yeah… Before Tori and I reconnected, I probably wouldn’t have settled down just to spite my mother.”

Henley chuckles as he turns to me. “Momma Thorne was putting pressure on him to find a wife.”

Elliot rolls his eyes. “I swear, if she tried to set me up one more time, I was going to sue her for emotional distress.”

I laugh. “Damn, she must have upped her game since I’ve seen her last.”

“She had, but luckily, that’s not a problem anymore.” Elliot slaps the table in front of him, knocking over the piles of chips. “I’m getting married, fuckers.”

“Yes, we know,” Henley says flatly. “Better you than me.”

“You’re not looking to settle down anytime soon, Clark?” Rhonan interjects.

Henley scoffs. “Ha, no. I’ll stick to one-night-only deals, gentlemen.

They get what they want, I get what I want, and everyone leaves satisfied.

I don’t believe one person for the rest of your life can make you that happy.

” Henley visibly shudders as he begins stacking back the fallen chips.

“I think I’ll just stick to my freedom, thank you very much. ”

Rhonan clears his throat as he tosses a look at Elliot and begins dealing the cards. “Elliot, it is a little surprising that you’re willing to give up your single status so quickly, especially given how short of a time you’ve been with Tori...”

Elliot’s smile falls as he locks eyes with Rhonan. “Don’t start.”

“Start what?” I ask, glancing around the table. Henley darts his gaze to the other side of the room as Rhonan turns his attention to me.

“I offered to do a background check on her—”

“And I said no,” Elliot cuts in. “Look, I know her, okay? We went to high school with her, so she’s not a complete stranger. And we want the same things—she understands my life and she has goals herself.”

Henley clears his throat. “Can we not get into this tonight, boys? We’re supposed to be having fun, and I’m supposed to be kicking all your asses in blackjack.”

“Am I missing something?” I say as I pick up my cards and check to see if I got dealt anything worthwhile.

“I just…” Rhonan blows out a breath. “Never mind. I guess I should just be grateful he’s not marrying Laney, huh?”

Elliot tips his beer toward him. “Exactly. But we all know that wouldn’t happen anyway thanks to our pact, right boys?”

“Ah, the pact,” Henley says wistfully, dredging up memories for me as I fiddle with my cards.

There’s nothing like four fourteen-year-old boys making a pact to solidify their friendship. The rules were simple: one, always have each other’s backs, two, don’t let anything come between us, and three, sisters are off-limits.

As an only child, the third rule didn’t affect me, but only one short year later, I realized I was stupid to ever agree to such a stipulation when Laney became more to me than just Rhonan’s little sister.

“Good. Now that that’s over, I’ll take a card, please.

” Elliot taps the table where his cards total twelve, pulling me back to our game.

Rhonan flips over a ten, causing him to bust. “Shit.” He lifts his beer to his lips and drains the rest of it.

We aren’t playing for money tonight, which is probably for the best, given the tension in the room.

Rhonan turns to Henley next, who shows two tens, so he splits them. Henley hits on both, getting a twenty on one hand, and twenty-one on the other. All of us acknowledge his stellar hand.

When all’s said and done, I easily win my round with my eleven and the ten that Rhonan deals, and then we play a few more hands before our time together comes to an end.

Outside, as Rhonan locks up the winery, he says, “All right, boys. This has been fun, but the sun, and therefore my kid, rises in about five hours. I’ll see y’all later.”

With a wave, he heads for his car and Elliot lets out a yawn. “Sorry boys, but my bed is calling too. Tori’s probably waiting for me.” He slaps me on the shoulder. “Don’t forget about the meeting with us and Laney tomorrow.”

I tap my temple. “Got it written down in here.”

“See ya then. Don’t forget to bring protection for your junk.” Laughing, he heads to his car and takes off, leaving me and Henley alone.

“What does he mean by that?”

Henley scoffs. “He’s probably wondering how you’re going to survive this when Laney would probably Lorena Bobbitt you if she had the chance.”

I take off my backwards ball cap and run a hand through my wavy brown hair, putting it right back in place. “Honestly, I’ve been trying to figure that out myself. If looks could kill, I’d already be a dead man.”

Henley shoves his hands in his pockets. “Well, in my experience, when you’ve wronged a woman, it’s almost impossible to get back on their good side.”

“How many women have you wronged?”

Henley smirks. “A few.”

“Well, Laney hasn’t been the same toward me since her mom’s funeral, so...”

“And you still don’t know why she flipped a switch?”

“Not really.”

Admitting my and Laney’s past to Henley right now is only going to open a floodgate of more shit to deal with, especially since he wasn’t there the night the line of our friendship was blurred.