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M ILES

She isn’t in the stands, but neither are Riley or Kendall. I tell myself it has nothing to do with Rowan not wanting to be here. With her distancing herself from me or her friends. I’m off my game, missing easy catches, letting defenders get by me, and not getting myself open for Dec’s passes.

We lose to New York. If I ran and dodged the defender better in the fourth quarter, I would have caught the thirty-yard pass and would have had a touchdown. Which would have won us the game.

I make good blocks, catch long passes, am good for eighty yards a game and a handful of catches.

Not tonight. One catch and four yards.

Usually after a win the team can count on me being stupid and cracking a few jokes. Dec and Nash stay back to talk to reporters, and I hang my head as I walk through the tunnel to the locker room.

Since it’s a late game, there aren’t many friends and family members lingering around. It’s close to midnight by the time I get home and I make myself two peanut butter and banana sandwiches, washing them down with a glass of milk.

The only text messages I have are from my aunt and sister. Crowds aren’t my aunt’s thing and Julia has been too bogged down with grad school to come to a game. I’d hoped she’d come with Rowan one day, but that ship has sailed.

I send them a quick text thanking them for their kind words. Well, Aunt Lynn’s text was sweet. Julia was her typical bratty self, sending me GIFs of a Butterfinger and another of the iconic Marsha Brady scene from the seventies when she got a football to the nose.

I’ll never live that fuck up down. I turned too late and the ball bounced off my faceguard. Can’t wait for ESPN to play that over and over again. There’s a good chance that’ll turn into a GIF as well.

Since it takes me a few hours to unwind after a game, I plop down on the couch and turn on my gaming console. For the next few hours, I zone out playing Madden. When my ass goes numb, I shut it down and crawl into bed.

I hate being mopey. It’s not me. Even after a shitty loss, I’m mostly chirpy. As I lay in bed and stare up at my ceiling, I think about the empty seat where Rowan usually sits. There were three empty seats, which should make me feel a little better. Jackson and Taylor were there for the first half, but it makes sense that Riley and Kendall would stay home with their kids. Rowan could have come with Jackson, but she didn’t.

She works early. The game didn’t even start until after eight. It would be stupid for her to be out that late, but I couldn’t help staring at the empty seat. Which was why I missed so many catches and blocks.

We play at one o’clock next week, then we’re away for three weeks in a row, which means I have one more shot to see her in the stands for a while.

Turning to my side, I stare out the window and the lights from the city cast shadows on my walls.

I fucked up the first relationship I’ve ever cared about, and I have no idea how to fix it.

***

A week goes by with no word from Rowan. I make good on my promise to her and don’t bother her, even though my fingers itch to send her a text. To call her. To write her another letter.

I could write one and not give it to her. Maybe it would be therapeutic. Maybe I’ll give it to her after today’s game. The one o’clock games are always well attended. Early November in Boston makes for the perfect football weather. Cool and crisp but not frigid.

Fans are warm enough in their jerseys and sweatshirts while donning Revs winter hats. Players aren’t freezing their nuts off on the sidelines waiting their turn to play and we’re not sweating our asses off in heat and humidity either.

The sky is bright blue, our playlist is screaming through the sound system, and the energy in the stands is epic. I’m pumped up, the team is fired up, and we’re ready to kick Miami’s ass.

“Be right back. Gotta kiss my wife.” Walker slaps my shoulder and jogs toward the stands.

I turn to follow him so I can catch a glimpse of Rowan, and my stomach drops when I see her empty seat. I tell myself not to over-analyze it, she could be in the restroom or standing in the concession line. But she’s still not there when we jog off the field, and when we make our grand entrance at the start of the game twenty minutes later, the seat next to Kendall is still vacant.

Once again, I’m off my game. I miss easy catches. I don’t block the defenders. I suck ass.

My head isn’t in the game and I’m at a loss for how to get my focus back on. Not even coach or Dec’s pep talks during halftime get me back in the right headspace. With three minutes left in the third quarter, Coach pulls me from the game, and I don’t blame him. I’m not contributing anything but a record number of dropped balls.

Yanking off my helmet, I drop to the bench and stare at the line of players in front of me. I don’t ever take a break. Even when I’m on the sidelines, I’m there. Toeing the line. Cheering on my team, whether it’s the offense or defense out there. I’m building up the spirits of the guys who are having an off game.

Even when I have an off-game—because everyone does from time to time—I never let it get me down like this. We turn the ball over on downs and Bankes jogs off the field, taking a seat next to me. It’s not uncommon for him to rest his legs after he’s been tearing up the field.

Since Dec hasn’t been able to rely on me, Bankes has been running the ball a fuckton today.

“Your aunt and sister okay?”

I tilt my head and start to crack a joke, but the sincerity in his eyes has me sighing. “They’re good.”

Bankes nods. “Start of the fourth quarter isn’t the time for a heart-to-heart, but don’t plan on leaving the locker room until you’ve told me what’s been up your ass the past few weeks. It’s one thing to drop the fucking ball, it’s another for Miles Buckingham to be a moping on the bench.”

“I’m not moping.”

“You’re not making a fool of yourself with stupid-ass jokes, and the team can feel it. No matter how much shit we give you for being an imbecile, it’s what keeps us going when we’re down by two touchdowns. If you and everyone in your family is safe and healthy, then get the fuck out of your head and at least get back on the sidelines and crack your fucking stupid-ass jokes. You may not be able to catch worth shit today, but there’s no doubt you can still run your mouth.”

Bankes picks up my helmet from the ground and shoves it into my chest.

“Thought you were waiting for the locker room to give me the captain’s lecture.”

“That wasn’t even the appetizer. You’ll get your ass chewed in thirty minutes.”

“Your wife know you get off putting your mouth on another guy’s ass?”

Bankes shakes his head. “You can do better than that. At least say something funny.” He smacks my forehead and jogs back over to the sideline.

Even with me back on the sidelines talking smack to the guys, we still lose by seven. We’re only halfway through the season and a playoff berth isn’t out of the question, but if we continue to play like we did this afternoon, our season won’t make it deep into January.

Right now, that’s the least of my worries. Never in my twenty-plus years of playing football have I not cared whether we win or lose.

After I’m showered and dressed in my favorite joggers and hoodie, I start for the locker room door.

“Not so fast.” Bankes presses a hand to my chest and shoves me back toward my locker.

I drop to the bench and rest my elbows on my knees as I wait for the lecture.

“I’m not going to lecture you,” Bankes says, standing in front of me.

“Thank fuck, Dad.”

“Real talk for five minutes. Are you healthy? Physically? Mentally? Something Coach or the team docs know about or should know about?”

Mentally? Fuck no. This is new territory for me. “Swear it’s nothing like that.”

“And your sister and aunt?”

“Sister’s still got a sharp tongue and is a pain in my ass, and Aunt Lynn’s cranking out sandwiches like they’re going out of style.”

“Good. Next time you stop over, don’t come empty handed. My wife likes the turkey bacon club.”

“You know, she has a name, your wife . We all know who Riley is. No need to always call her by her title.”

His grin reaches his fucking ears. “ My wife likes it when I call her that.”

“Ah. She’s got the wife kink, does she?” I match his grin and stand, liking the attention back on him.

“Watch it, Buckshot.”

“Any other kinks she likes? Maybe a threesome? I see the way she checks out my ass. My glutes are all the rage amongst the ladies.” I turn and bend over, smacking my ass. “Wanna touch them? I know you do, Banksey.”

“Fucking Christ.” He shoves me and I nearly headbutt my locker, but I right myself, laughing. It’s been too long since I’ve had an honest-to-God laugh. “Get your shit together before the next game. We’ve got a tough three games on the road and we need you out there. You’re the best tight end in the league.”

“Knew you liked my ass.” I toss my duffel over my shoulder and follow Bankes down the hall, and for thirty seconds, I forget that Rowan won’t be there.

Since Bankes didn’t mention her, I take it she never said anything to Riley or Kendall about us, which makes me fucking sad. Hell, I’d have posted our relationship status on a billboard in Times Square if she’d let me, and if I knew what it was during the short time we were together.

But despite what she thinks of me for deceiving her, I respect her privacy and won’t mention it, even though it pains me to keep quiet.

The wives greet their husbands with kisses while the single guys hit on the few single women waiting around. It’s a friends and family area so it’s not like there are horny women hanging off our arms—save that for the bars.

Riley and Kendall give me hugs, because they’re cool like that, and I try to act nonchalant when I ask about Rowan.

“You’re missing your third wheel. Rowan got a hot date or something?” Fuck, that hurt to squeak out. Not that I want to know if she does, but it would be nice to have confirmation that it’s not why she missed today’s game.

“No. She really wanted to come but she’s been busy taking care of her sister,” Riley says.

“Her sister?” She’s said very little about them to me, but she told Adam the details of her dysfunctional family.

Their relationship isn’t good. It’s toxic. Rowan might not have used that word, but I could read between the lines. The family centers around the sister, Natalie, I think her name is. Rowan always got pushed aside and was responsible for raising her brother while keeping house.

Even now, with them grown up and living on their own, they only reach out to her when they need something. And because Rowan is the peacemaker, the one who wants to make everyone happy, she never argues with her family and does whatever they ask.

I have another name for her—pushover—but it’s not something I’d say to her face. She wants to please people, but she often does so at her own expense.

“Yeah. I guess she had surgery, her ACL, I think, and is staying at Rowan’s so she can help take care of her.”

“Doesn’t she have to work?” I ask defensively. And why can’t their mother care for her?

“Rowan says she sleeps most of the day and they have dinner together at night. She’ll help her sister with PT and appointments when she can get up and move. She’s such a good person.”

The fuck? Rowan has a tiny apartment on the third floor and works long hours. The last thing she needs to do is play caretaker to her selfish sister.

Riley and Kendall don’t seem upset about Rowan’s sacrifices, so I take it she hasn’t told them about her toxic family. The women are close. Best of friends, so Rowan should feel comfortable being open and honest with them, but it’s another secret she’s held close to her chest.

The many layers of Rowan McDaniels.

Dec drapes an arm over my shoulder. “We hittin’ up Whiskey Buckle tonight, kids?”

The last place I want to be is at a bar. While thinking of an excuse not to hang out with the team and sneak off to Rowan’s, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Only four people outside of the team call me on the regular. My aunt, my sister, Rowan, and my agent. None are people I want to ignore.

I slip out my phone and am disappointed when I see it’s not Rowan. “Hey, Auntie.”

“There’s something going on with you, Miles, and you’ve been keeping it from me. Get your butt over here right now and be prepared to tell me what’s going on in that steel noggin of yours.”

“I’m on my way.”

“Booty call?” Dec waggles his eyebrows.

“Not my fault the ladies can’t resist.” I smirk, rather having him think that’s why I’m ditching the crew tonight than know I’m about to get my ass chewed out by my aunt.