Page 8 of The Last Person (Baker Girls #5)

CHAPTER SEVEN

HARDY

I love a game like today’s. We won by a huge gap, but not because the other team didn’t have their shit together. They did. But we were on another level. More coordinated than we’ve been all season, the whole team moving together as a flawless unit.

Games like that are rare, but they remind us what we’re capable of, and show us the things we’re best at. As much as game tape is used to improve our skills and strategies, it can also show what’s working well.

Brian pulled off three sneaky as fuck sacks today—which is how he always is. He appears out of nowhere and stops a play in its tracks.

Mark and I were on fire. It was like I knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly where he needed me to be at any moment.

We’ll probably bomb the next game. It’s like once the stars align like this, it all falls apart next game, whether it’s because of overconfidence or overthinking.

Either way, I’m reveling in the high of such a fantastic win tonight, especially knowing my family was here to watch.

In general, we’ve dominated our home games this season.

Our only losses—like last week—have been on the road.

But this was our best game of the season, home or away, and I’m always extra proud when my family gets to see it in person.

Throwing a ball around on a field for a few hours every week isn’t a life-changing career. I’m not healing or saving people—but hopefully I’m bringing some joy and entertainment to their lives, and I want to bring that same joy to my family.

I’m still bouncing as we hit the showers.

They upgraded our locker room last year, so we now have individual shower stalls.

We’re all used to seeing each other’s asses and we know not to make direct eye contact with another guy’s junk, but it’s nice not to have to actively be mindful of where our eyes are anymore.

Of course, the second I think that, I walk past Brian’s stall in time to see him drop his towel.

I have to force myself not to bite my lip when I see his perfect football bubble butt.

Since when do I like guys’ butts? I’d consider looking around and checking if any of my other teammates’ butts do it for me, but that’s not an awkward workplace situation I want to walk into.

That’s the kind of messiness I want to watch on TV, not live in my own life.

Stepping into the shower, I slip my towel off and grab my body wash, closing my eyes and relaxing under the hot water. The only problem is that suddenly an image of Brian’s butt appears in my mind, and little Hardy is more than a little interested.

No. Bad. Down, boy. Having a hard-on in the middle of the locker room is also frowned upon.

We all know some post-win, adrenaline-fueled, can’t-wait-to-get-laid semis happen, but a full woody is a no-go.

Think of something else. Anything else.

Not Brian, or his butt. Or why I find them attractive when I never did before.

Where am I right now? In the shower. What else is in the shower? Water. Good. That’s good. Water is neutral. Rivers, lakes, the ocean. Even better. Ocean life. Fish. Seahorses. Dolphins. Whales. Sharks. Sharks mercilessly attacking and destroying.

Like we did on the field today.

Hey-o. I’m back.

I successfully make it through the rest of my shower without my brain wandering to places it shouldn’t be, and after getting dressed and a few questions from the press, Brian and I head to the family area to meet my parents, my aunt, my older sister, her husband, and their two kids.

We’ve barely walked in the door of the family area when I nearly collide with someone.

“I know you’re excited to see me, but watch the toes. I just got a pedicure.”

The screech of excitement I let out draws the attention of everyone in the room, but I give zero fucks as I throw my arms around my other favorite person in the world—my cousin Christy.

As kids, we were always close. Until I was eleven, our families did everything together.

Sunday dinners, vacations, day trips—whatever.

We stuck to each other like glue. When I was in middle school, we moved from western Pennsylvania to the northern part of New Jersey since my dad got a great new job there.

We still saw each other in the summers, but not as much.

Until Christy came out as trans when she was fourteen.

Her dad threatened to throw her out, and my aunt—my mom’s sister—packed all of her and Christy’s stuff, and moved in with my family.

I’ll forever hate her dad for what he did to her.

She’s so much happier now, living as who she was always supposed to be, but he never cared about that.

Selfishly, I’m grateful that I got to have her by my side through high school, and we had the chance to grow even closer, but I’m not sure I can ever forgive him for hurting her like that.

She’s handled it all with a grace I don’t quite have.

Christy is as boisterous and charming as anyone in my family, but like Brian, she has a softer side that always made her my safe place.

She laughs and hugs me tightly before stepping back so I can get a good look at her.

The last time I saw her was six months ago.

Her hair was pinkish-red then, but it’s a deep purplish-brown now.

Her fair brown skin is covered in some sort of shimmery body lotion, like always.

And of course, she looks fabulous. One of the things we bonded over as teenagers was our love of clothing and fashion.

We used to dream of starting a clothing line together.

Maybe we would have if our other interests hadn’t always won out.

Instead, I’m a meathead football player, and she’s a travel journalist and social media creator. She hates the term influencer because, as she says, she’s not trying to influence anyone. She’s trying to share stories and build bridges between people.

“What are you doing here?” I ask when I let her go.

She shrugs. “Thought I’d enjoy some downtime for a few weeks. I have some little day trips planned around upstate, but I wanted to be home for Christmas. Plus, I heard you have a new apartment that I need to see.”

Her gaze connects with mine. Right. I hadn’t mentioned that.

Sure, it’s only been a couple of weeks, but normally, that’s something I would’ve told her right away.

But I knew she’d ask questions. Probably questions I wouldn’t have been ready to answer.

Tonight, though, I might need some hard truths from her.

“Does that mean you’re staying with us?” I ask.

“You’re more than welcome,” Brian says. His voice is warm as he steps up next to me.

Christy wraps her arms around him, and it’s softer than the way she hugged me. She’s great at matching the energy of the person she’s interacting with.

“Hey, Bri. How are you?”

“I’m good. Minus the unfortunate circumstances of sharing an apartment with him.” He nods in my direction as Christy steps back, her lips twitching in amusement.

“I understand that. But hey, at least you don’t have to share a bathroom with him.”

“Says the person who took forever to do her hair every morning.”

“Like you’re any better. You’d be in there shaving every inch of your chest.” She looks at Brian. “He still do that?”

Brian bites back a smile. “No. He waxes it now.”

Both of them try not to crack up, but fail miserably.

“Ha ha. I’m always the butt of the joke.”

“As much fun as this is, maybe we should head back to Ryan and Brian’s apartment and stop putting on a show for everyone else,” Mom says, already on to our bullshit.

Not surprising, given the amount of nights she and Auntie V had to yell at us to stop laughing and go to sleep at one in the morning.

Once we start, it’s hard to get us to stop.

Brian walks over and hugs my mom, then kisses her cheek. “Sounds like a great plan, Jeanette.”

We make our way out of the room, Brian and my parents a few steps ahead of us, and my stupid, shameless eyes drop to his ass again.

I quickly pull them away, but the sly smile on Christy’s face tells me she knows exactly what I was looking at.

After a long afternoon and evening spent with my family, everyone but Christy finally headed home. Brian disappeared into his room as soon as the door closed behind them.

He loves my family, and they love him, but I know he needs to decompress, and that’s fine, because I need some time with Christy.

After showing her the biggest guest room, I changed into comfortable clothes and made some tea. When I walk back into her room, she’s sitting cross-legged on the bed, now in sweats and an oversized tee, her hair tucked up in a silky wrap and all her makeup gone.

I hand her one of the mugs, then settle in a chair in the corner by the window.

“So… you’re living with Brian,” she says after a beat.

I meet her eyes and nod. “Yep.”

“Interesting.”

“Why is it interesting that I live with my best friend? Lots of people live with their best friends.”

She gives me the most derisive look to ever be derisive, which is saying something in my family. Are we all supportive of each other? To a fault. Do we give each other shit while we’re doing it? 24/7, 365.

“And you and Brian are just friends? Don’t lie to me.”

I hold up my hands. “I’m not going to lie.” Not any more than I’m lying to myself. “We’re best friends, but…”

“Ooh, now we’re getting to it. But what?”

I take a sip of my tea and pull my knees up to my chest. “Would it be crazy if I had feelings for him?”

It’s the first time I’ve said the words aloud to another person.

I’m certain some of the Baker Girls tribe suspects it.

Definitely Hallie. Maybe Justin. Beyond that, I’m not sure.

But I don’t want to drag them into this.

I don’t want to drag anyone else into this.

Everyone in my family loves Brian like he’s one of us, and I don’t want to make it weird.

But Christy is my ride or die. I don’t have to worry about her being in the middle.