Page 90 of The Wrong Game

She laughed, hiccuping again. “Throw the damn ball, Bowen.”

I did, and this time I threw it the same way I would to my brother or dad or any of my guy friends. Gemma caught it easily, tucking it into her side and charging at me like she was running down the field toward the red zone.

I smirked, blocking her advance and picking her up in my arms to twirl her around. She kept the ball safe, though, and when I let her back down to the ground, she jogged across the lot, turning once she was farther away than before.

She threw it again, and I caught it easily, tossing it back to her with a little more gusto than before. For a while, we just fell into the rhythm of catching and throwing, and the more my arm warmed up, the more every inch of me itched to play.

This was the most I’d touched a football in years.

It wasn’t that I didn’t have opportunities to go play. I’d been asked to be in countless community leagues, and my coach from college had asked me to come out and help with their training camp three years in a row before he gave up. But the truth was, as much as it brought me joy to play, it also broke my fucking heart.

Because I’d wanted it so bad — to play all through college, take my team to the championship game, win a ring, go pro.

But I’d wanted my brother to have everything he needed, more.

And I wanted to spend as much time as I could with him — especially since I didn’t know how much time we actually had.

“Alright, let’s run a drill or something,” Gemma said, tossing the ball up as she backed farther away from me. “Show me your moves.”

“Don’t hurt yourself now, birthday girl.”

Gemma narrowed her eyes, catching the ball and gripping it hard in her tiny hands. “Go long.”

She wound up, taking a few steps back as I jogged lazily out a ways. But when she threw it, I realized I hadn’t gone nearly far enough.

“Shit,” I murmured, sprinting to get under the ball. I was still short though, so I jumped, sailing in the air with one hand outstretched toward the pigskin. The leather fell into that hand, and I jerked it quickly into my side, rolling to the ground to complete the catch.

“TOUCHDOWN!”

Gemma screamed, jumping up and down before sprinting over to me. I was on my way to standing, but she tackled me back to the ground, laughing as we rolled in the dead grass, the ground cold beneath us.

The ball was still tucked into my side, but I let it fall, pulling Gemma into me, instead. She was still laughing as she leaned up on one elbow, the other hand resting on my chest as her hair fell over her shoulder. There were little pieces of grass stuck in it, and I smiled, plucking them free as she watched me.

“You still love it, don’t you?” she asked, catching her breath. “You miss it.”

I nodded. “I do.”

“Why did you stop playing, Zach?”

I exhaled long and hard, eyes floating up to the overcast sky above. It was a perfect fall evening, cold and gray, exactly what I loved October to be. “I just realized that there were other, more important things in my life that needed my full attention.”

Gemma frowned. “Well, that’s not vague or anything.”

“It’s just hard to explain,” I said, pulling another blade of brown grass from her hair. “I will, one day. I’ll tell you. But not today, okay? It’s your birthday. Let’s talk about happy things.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said, eyes rolling up to the sky again before I brought them back to hers. “Tell me about your job.”

“My job?”

I nodded. “Yeah. I know you work for Belle, and we kind of talked a little about what you do, but I want to know more. You don’t talk about it much.”

Gemma laid her cheek on my chest. “There’s not much to say. When we graduated college, she started her interior design firm, and she was a mess.” She chuckled. “She’s insanely talented when it comes to making someone’s home or office or event space gorgeous, but when it comes to balancing finances or sorting paperwork? Girl is helpless.”

“So, in steps you, the Planning Queen.”

“Exactly.”