Page 29

Easton

T homas launches the ball toward Zane, and after beautifully flying through the air, it hits the mark, landing in his hands as Luke slams into a player trying to get to him. Zane takes off running, unopposed, and makes it to the end zone, spinning around for a victory dance.

My heart pounds in my chest but I refuse to celebrate. Not yet. Not until we know the final score.

We may be up by six points in our away game against Chicago, but we came from behind, so we could easily end up back there. It’s still anyone’s game.

Our kicker, Blake, moves into position and I hold my breath. We need this, but he’s been off all day. We all have. We’re lucky Chicago isn’t playing their best game either.

Something in the air maybe.

Blake lines up, running through his pre-kick rituals—bouncing his shoulders before shaking his body out—then he goes for it. The perfect kick. The ball soars through the air and I have no doubt it’s going the distance. We just need it to—

“Yes.” The crowd erupts with cheers as Blake gets the extra point while I breathe a little easier.

We’ve got this. I hope. I could use some of Luke’s confidence right now. He’s once again convinced we’re winning the Super Bowl this year and has been since preseason.

Blake kicks off from the thirty-five yard line, sending the ball flying toward Chicago, and they attempt to advance, running forward with speed. They get close, but our defense is finally on their game, quickly forcing a fumble to give us the ball back with less than a minute left on the clock.

With our offense back in possession, our center snaps the ball to Thomas and I race ahead, ready to end this. Thomas’s throw is perfect as always, and the ball soars through the air, landing with precision in my outstretched hands. Tucking the ball in my arm, I take off in a run toward the end zone. My eyes on the prize. The world around me no longer there. This is it.

We need this.

Adrenaline courses through my veins as players charge my way, propelling me to dodge and weave until I see Zane open and ready. As much as I hate him day-to-day, when we’re on the field, he’s my teammate and I know he’ll get us what we need.

He slows and I launch the ball backward toward him just as I’m flattened to the ground, and I miss seeing if he secured it in his grasp. But I know he did. I’m sure of it. And when I finally look up, Zane’s dancing his victory dance as the guys go wild and the whistle blows. That’s it. We won. We fucking did it.

Thomas helps me to my feet and I finally smile.

As a team we’re always out to win, but today I needed it. I don’t think I could have handled a loss right now.

Every day that we move closer to Thanksgiving and Christmas has me more on edge, wondering what the hell Macy’s going to expect. Is she going to be here? Is she going to want to take Isaac there? And if she does…can I stop her?

She may not think about him that often, but one thing about Macy is that she loves the holidays, and I’m terrified of what that means. Especially since Isaac hasn’t heard from her since before I asked about the Halloween T-shirt.

Celebrations are loud and obnoxious when we get back to the locker room, and I find myself accepting praise from my teammates. That was a fucking close call, but we did it. We’re still undefeated almost halfway through the season, and fuck, does that feel good.

“Easton, my man,” Reed says as he hesitantly wraps his arm around my shoulder, excited but still wary about my asshole ways. I shake him off but smile.

“Good game today,” I say in acknowledgment.

“Right back at you. Please tell me you’re coming out to celebrate.”

“I—”

“Isaac’s at home. You deserve some time to yourself.”

Reed means well, but his words are like a knife to the chest. I barely see Isaac; what right do I have to my own time? “Reed—”

“Please. You don’t have to enjoy it. Just come.” He bites back a smirk, but at the last second it shines through.

“Okay. Fine. But I am hating every moment.”

“That’s the spirit.” He slaps me on the back before heading over to Thomas next. Though from the look of euphoria on Thomas’s face, I don’t think he’ll need much convincing.

We crowd into a local bar, taking the booths in the back, spreading out like the cocky assholes most of us are, our obnoxious celebrations never wavering.

Luke buys the first round of drinks for our table, announcing that he’s leaving soon to talk to his wife and I’m not mad about it. Though I do note that’s a huge change for him. He was always the guy leading the party charge. It’s nice to see him putting his family first.

I check the time when he heads to the bar, wondering what Isaac’s doing now.

Since we had a day game, with the time difference it’s midafternoon back home, meaning I have another two hours before I promised I’d call. Like Luke, I have my priorities. On the field I’m dedicated to my team, but even then, Isaac is number one.

After we’ve been drinking for the better part of an hour, talk turns to the GM position and I catch Luke glancing in Thomas’s direction before Thomas subtly shakes his head. He knows something. He’d have to. It’s no secret that Wes and Thomas are good friends.

It shouldn’t be a big deal—the interim GM is doing a fine job—but I’m not convinced it’s the GM position that has the team rattled. I think it’s the fear that there’s more to come. That we’re about to see a wave of firings camouflaged as “resignations”—and the team is going to suffer.

I want to ask Paige about it. But I also don’t. Because what if it’s true? What if Coach Pierce is next? He can be a pain in the ass, but he’s good. He got us to where we are today, and we respect the hell out of him.

“I think it will be the guy from Tampa,” offensive tackle Wyatt says, raising a brow in challenge, “and none of you will convince me otherwise.”

“I bet Thomas could,” Luke chimes in, and I choke on a sip of my beer as I actually laugh. If you can rely on anything from Luke, it’s that he doesn’t play favorites. He’ll gladly throw a friend or brother-in-law under a bus.

Thomas groans. “How many times do I have to tell you? I haven’t spoken to Wes. I’m staying out of it.”

“Really? So it never came up when you watched the game with him the other week?”

“Nope. Because I never asked . And you know he’s not a big sharer.”

“Yeah, yeah. Good excuse. Are you curious?”

“Of course I am. Just like the rest of you. But I don’t have any insider information.”

“Okay. I believe you. This time.”

“Thanks. Next time you want to call me out, asshole, do it in private.” He sounds pissed but since he’s smiling, I’d say he’s used to Luke’s shit.

Luke laughs before gesturing in my direction and I frown. “If I did it in private, it wouldn’t have made Easton laugh. You’re all welcome, by the way. It’s a nice sound, isn’t it?”

I almost laugh again, but refuse to give him that satisfaction, scowling instead so the others laugh for me.

Luke heads back to the hotel after that and the conversation moves on. When I next check the time, I have twenty minutes left before I need to be in my room. But since talk just entered more personal territory, I’m done.

I give a quick wave to anyone paying attention and opt for the short walk back to the hotel over taking a cab. I’ve just reached the door to my room when my phone rings.

“Hi, Mom. I was just about to call you.”

“Hi, Honey. Good game today. Isaac and I caught the end while we were breaking for lunch.”

“Breaking for lunch? That late? Sounds like you had a busy day.”

“We did. But I’ll let Isaac tell you all about it. I just put on an episode of that Halloween cartoon so we could talk first.”

“What’s going on?”

“Macy called about thirty minutes ago.” She pauses and whether she meant it as dramatic effect or not, it worked, because I am already fuming. I’ve asked her time and time again to call me first. Or to call on days she knows I’m there. That if she needed to speak to Isaac, I had to know. But of course she’d wait until I was at an away game.

“What did she say? Please tell me you kept the phone on speaker.”

“Oh, definitely, and she asked him if he wanted to spend Christmas with her in Florida.”

“Florida? What’s in Florida?”

“She is. Apparently.”

Fuck . I can’t keep up.

My heart lodges in my throat as I ask the next question. I’d rather not know the answer, but I have to. “What did Isaac say?”

“He said yes. He asked if she could take him to Disney World. She mumbled a half-assed noncommittal response, but he was still pretty excited.”

I put Mom on speaker and drop my head into my hands, groaning. “What the hell do I do? Can I stop it?”

“I don’t know. We can try. Your father knows a great lawyer and—”

“No.”

“No?”

“I don’t want him involved, Mom. He’ll use it as a favor, so that I owe him one, and I don’t want to owe him.”

“When are you going to forgive him?”

“When I forgive Macy.”

Mom sighs. She knows the answer to both is never.

I can handle a lot of shit being thrown my way. I can forgive a lot of things. Hell, I have no doubt that I’ll one day forgive Zane. But I draw the line at walking out on a child. I get that there are extenuating circumstances at times, but neither Macy nor my dad had a solid excuse.

“Find another lawyer then,” Mom says, a little annoyed. “But do it quickly. That woman doesn’t want to spend time with Isaac when she’s here, so why would she want him there?”

That’s a great question and one I’m afraid to have answered.

Isaac’s sweet voice filters in from the living room before we get the chance to say more, so I talk to him instead. I doubt we would have come up with any brilliant ideas anyway.

Isaac tells me about his day at the park and seeing the seals at the pier—one of his favorite things to do—and then we say good night and hang up. With no mention of his mom. At all.

He didn’t even mention Disney.

Since it’s still early, I change into sweats and a tee and crash on the couch, massaging my temples as I watch the last half of LA’s game against Philadelphia.

My phone rings again just as the game goes into overtime, and I almost throw it against the wall in frustration, until I realize it might be Mom calling me back now that Isaac’s likely asleep.

Taking a deep breath, I lift the phone to my face and a smile pulls at my lips. Paige. It’s been two weeks since I gave her my key and she’s yet to use it. I’d be demanding answers if my life wasn’t as crazy as hers. And on top of that, we’ve been texting and she admitted she’s got some stuff going on with her dad.

Yet another reason I should ask her what she knows.

“It’s not a Wednesday, Paige,” I answer, my lips curled into a smirk. “Are you calling to tell me you got your days wrong and you’re finally in my apartment?”

“No.” She giggles and the sound vibrates through my chest. “I actually have no idea why I’m calling. Is that okay?”

Her response catches me off guard and I pause. There’s a hint of vulnerability in her tone that I’m not used to from Paige. But I saw it when she was telling me about that damn gossip magazine, even if she said she was fine.

“It is. But is something wrong?”

“No, of course not.” Her voice rises leaving me unconvinced, but I let her off the hook. For now.

“Okay, so—”

“I was worried it wouldn’t be okay to call since we’ve only ever texted.” She cuts me off, further proving my theory. Paige talks a lot when she’s nervous. I discovered that the first day I met her. But still, I let it go. “Anyway, how was your day?”

“Honestly, my day was great but my night turned to shit.” The words are out of my mouth before I’ve thought about it and I freeze, backtracking. “Sorry, you don’t need to worry about that. How was your day?”

“What happened?”

“Nothing I can’t handle. I want to know about you.”

“My day was okay. I booked another photo shoot and got my nails done. Did I tell you I’m going to be working the runway soon for that new San Francisco designer? I’ve only walked the runway once, so I’m a little excited. And the clothes are beautiful. They’re high quality and the colors are to die for. I can’t wait.”

“I can hear it in your voice. Sounds like you had a good day.” But there’s that rushed talking again.

“I guess.”

“Why are you calling, Paige?”

“What?”

“I’m happy to hear from you, always, but like you said, we’ve never spoken on the phone and I’m—” worried .

“Ugh. I know,” she cuts me off again. “I was thinking about you and—” She cuts herself off this time and laughs. “Are you alone?”

“Huh? Of course I’m alone.” I get defensive. “Who do you think is here?”

“I don’t know. A teammate.” I picture Paige shrugging her shoulders, and I smile before cursing myself for being a dick.

“Sorry, no. I have my own room.”

“Why are you sorry? That’s good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah. I lied about my day.”

“You lied?” I mean, I could tell but still…

“Yes, I told you my day was okay. But it sucked. I got some bad news and while I’d usually just go to the gym or for a run, I can’t do those things now without thinking about you and… I’m not great at holding back when I want something.”

An image of Paige naked in the gym comes to mind, and I swallow a lump in my throat. “What is it you want, Paige? Do you want to talk about it?” I’m not great with advice but I can listen. “What are you holding back from?”

“You?” she whispers before sucking in a breath. “I want you to get me off, Easton. Help make my day better. Who knows, maybe it will improve yours too.”

“ Fuck, Paige. You know I’m in Chicago, right?”

“I do. But I don’t need you here.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I just need you to tell me what to do.”

Jesus Christ.