Page 28

HE FELL FIRST

FLYNN

T he door hadn’t even closed behind Tempest before Jules pounced.

“So that’s the girl who’s gotten under your skin.” She folded her arms, grinning at me like she’d caught me stealing cookies. “Gotta say, big brother, you’ve been holding out on us.”

I grabbed a clean t-shirt from the laundry pile. “There’s nothing to hold out on.”

“Please.” She rolled her eyes with the dramatic flair that only a teenage girl could perfect. “I haven’t seen you look at anyone like that since... ever.”

“Like what?” I pulled the shirt over my head, grateful for the momentary escape from her scrutiny.

“Like she hung the moon and stars and possibly invented football.”

I snorted. “You’ve been reading too many of those romance novels.”

“And you,” she pointed at me accusingly, “have been breaking your stupid no girlfriends, I only date someone for two-weeks rule. Admit it.”

Baby donkey brayed from the backyard, as if adding his agreement. We would be having a talk about manners and how to be a better wingman later.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?” I asked, heading back outside to check on our four-legged troublemaker. “The mall? A friend’s house? Literally anywhere that isn’t here interrogating me?”

Jules followed, undeterred. “First of all, nobody goes to the mall anymore, and this is way more interesting than anything and everything else that I have to do. Flynn Kingman, campus player extraordinaire, tripping over himself for a girl who doesn’t even seem impressed by his football skills or status as an upcoming first-round draft pick. ”

“She’s just... different.” I grabbed the brush we’d dropped earlier and started grooming the donkey, who had finally tired of destroying Dad’s herb garden.

“Different how?”

I thought about Tempest’s laugh, the way her eyes lit up when she talked about literature, how she kept pushing back against my charm until I had to be real with her.

“I don’t know,” I lied. “She’s just not what I expected.”

Jules hopped up on the fence, watching me with a smirk that was far too knowing for a high school senior. “You know what I think?”

“I’m sure you’re about to tell me.”

“I think she’s exactly your type, but you never knew it because you’ve been dating the wrong girls.”

I focused on brushing a particularly stubborn knot out of the donkey’s mane. “And what type would that be, Dr. Ruth?”

“Smart. Independent. Doesn’t take your crap.” She ticked off on her fingers. “Has her own thing going on that has nothing to do with you or football. Oh, and she clearly loves animals, which means she’s not a sociopath.”

“Low bar there, princess.”

“You’d be surprised.” She swung her legs, studying me. “So when are you seeing her again?”

“We’re going to be connected at the donkey hip this week. We’re figuring out what to do with this guy,” I nodded toward the donkey, who had decided my shoelaces were tasty. “Tempest’s grandmother gets back next week and might take him in, until the sanctuary is able to rebuild their barns.”

“Cool, so family introductions already. Moving fast.”

I shot her a patented shut-your-face-brat look. But fucknuts. I hadn’t thought about that. I hadn’t ever gotten to the meeting-someone’s-family stage with any woman. “It’s not like that.”

“Sure.” She grinned, but her expression turned more serious. “You know, it wouldn’t be the worst thing if it was like that.”

Something in her tone made me stop brushing, but I stared into the abyss of brown fuzz instead of at my overly perceptive little sister. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sigh. I gave her a quick sideways look just in time to catch her shrug. She suddenly found her fingernails fascinating. “Just that... I don’t know. You’re always so careful not to get attached to anyone. Even more than the rest of the guys.”

“I’m not?—”

“You are.” She cut me off. “Just because you let someone into your heart doesn’t mean they’re going to... hurt you.”

“I don’t think Tempest is going to hurt me.” Because I wasn’t actually letting her into my heart or whatever other mushy-gushy stuff teenage sisters dreamed up when they read too many romance novels.

“Right.” She slugged me in the arm.” Well, you should know that even if you do get your heart broken or something, you’d survive, you know?”

Why was Jules The Kickass being so gentle with me right now? It was totally unnerving me.

“Just like Dad survived Mom dying.”

The brush stilled in my hand.

Did he?

We didn’t talk about Mom often, especially not like this.

“Low blow, Jules.”

“Not a blow. An observation.” Her voice softened. “I just think maybe it wouldn’t be the end of the world if you let someone in. Especially someone who looks at you the way she does when she thinks no one’s watching.”

My head snapped up. “How does she look at me?”

Jules’s smile returned, smug now. “Like she’s trying really hard not to look at you at all.”

Before I could respond, my phone buzzed with a text from Dad.

Dad: On my way with the food. Gryff joining. Drills at 2.

I showed Jules the text. “Dad’s bringing lunch. You sticking around?”

“Nah.” She hopped off the fence. “I really do need to find my purple Converse. I’m meeting friends at the library.” She started toward the house, then paused. “Flynn?”

“Yeah?”

“That donkey needs a name. A real one. It’s weird calling him ‘the donkey’ all the time.”

I glanced at our four-legged friend who was now contentedly munching on the hay I’d laid out. “I’ve been trying to guess his name for weeks. Tempest won’t tell me.”

“Maybe she hasn’t named him yet.” Jules tilted her head, considering. “He seems like a Fernando to me.”

“I already suggested that.” I grinned. “Along with about fifty other names.”

“Well, keep trying.” She gestured between me and the donkey. “You two have a lot in common. Both stubborn as hell and in desperate need of Tempest’s attention.”

Christ, she knew me way too well. “Hilarious.”

“I know.” She blew me a kiss and disappeared inside, leaving me alone with a nameless donkey and thoughts I wasn’t ready to examine too closely.

By the time Dad returned with enough sandwiches to feed his defensive line, I’d finished reinforcing the donkey’s pen, patched the hole in the fence he’d somehow created overnight, and was working on a more secure gate latch.

“Looks good.” Dad surveyed my handiwork, handing me a bottle of water. “Though I still expect those combine drills done this afternoon. Lots of teams are interested in the two of you this year.”

I always assumed we’d somehow both get drafted to the Mustangs like every Kingman before us.

“Yes, sir.” I took a long drink. “Sorry about the herbs.”

He shrugged. “Plants grow back.” He watched the donkey, who was now napping in a patch of sunlight. “Interesting girl, that Tempest.”

I nearly choked on my water. “You talked to her for all of two minutes.”

“Sometimes that’s all you need.” He leaned against the fence. “She reminds me of your mother.”

The comparison startled me. “How?”

“April was a challenge too.” A rare smile crossed his face. The one that was specifically for memories of Mom. “First time I met her, she pretended we weren’t flirting our asses off.”

“What happened to the love at first sight story?”

His smile widened. “I fell first, and harder. The best way to go, kid.”

I absorbed this information, trying to reconcile it with the scattered memories I had of Mom. She’d died when I was six, leaving behind impressions more than concrete memories—her laugh, the smell of her perfume, the way Dad’s face lit up when she entered a room.

The way he hadn’t lit up again for years after she died.

“She would have liked Tempest,” Dad continued. “She always appreciated people who weren’t impressed by superficial things.”

“We’re just friends,” I said automatically.

Dad gave me a look that said he wasn’t buying it. “If you say so.” He pushed off from the fence. “Gryff’s inside. Says he’s got news about the combine.”

My twin was sprawled across the couch in the family room, demolishing a sandwich the size of his head.

“About time,” he said when I walked in. “I’ve been waiting forever.”

“It’s been fifteen minutes, drama queen.” I grabbed my own sandwich from the kitchen counter. “What’s this news?”

Gryff’s face split into a wide grin. “The LA Bandits are sending their head scout specifically to watch us.”

My stomach did a weird flip. The Bandits were a top-tier team, three-time Bowl champions. Getting on their radar was huge.

“Both of us?” I asked.

“Yep. They’re looking to rebuild their defense, and want to protect that slow-ass quarterback they won’t let go of.” He paused dramatically. “Imagine both of us getting drafted to the same team. We’d never have to split up.”

We’d played side by side our entire lives. The thought of continuing that in the pros had always been our dream, but it also seemed impossible given how the draft worked.

“That would be...” I searched for the right word. “Badass.”

“Right? And it’s LA. Sun, surf, celebrities.” Gryff wiggled his eyebrows .

I nodded, trying to match his enthusiasm. LA would be incredible for our careers. The coaching staff was legendary, the facilities top-notch. And yet...

“What about Denver?” I asked. “Any word from the Mustangs?”

“Sure, of course they’re interested too. We’re legacies, man. But there is no guarantee. More teams recruiting us, the better.” He studied me. “I thought you’d be more excited.”

I was. Or I should be. But suddenly there was a new variable in the equation I hadn’t considered before.

“I am excited,” I assured him.

“But?” Gryff’s eyes narrowed. “This doesn’t have anything to do with a certain Shakespeare-loving donkey owner, who lives here in Denver, does it?”

“No,” I said, too quickly.

My twin’s expression turned smug. “Holy shit. It does.” He leaned forward. “Flynn Kingman, are you actually considering a girl in your future plans? A girl who’s not a two-week fling?”