Page 19

19

BLAKELY

“Tomorrow? What do you mean we have to announce the engagement tomorrow? And why do you look so terrible?”

“I’m surprised they waited this long. We don’t have a choice now. A Friday night home game is the opportunity they want to capitalize on.”

Jamie ignores my last comment and shakes out his messy hair as if that’ll help any.

He’s still in the suit he went to the wedding in, only now it’s wrinkled, the buttons mismatched, and sleeves rolled nearly to his elbows. There’s a dark shadow across his jaw and a bleakness to his usually vibrant blue eyes that makes my stomach twitch with unease. The smell of alcohol that’s wafting off him is strong enough to reach from the doorway of my room to my bed.

Crossing my legs beneath the heavy comforter, I lean forward and fold my hands in my lap. Is it okay for me to ask what he was doing all night? Should it matter?

I roll my lips. “Are you okay?”

He pauses, as if surprised by my question. With a shoulder against the doorframe, he lifts the corner of his mouth.

“Yeah, Bandit. I just watched my brother get married to the woman of his dreams. What’s there to be upset about? ”

“You can be happy for him and be upset about something else at the same time.”

“It’s just the hangover. You don’t have to worry about me,” he says softly.

Yeah, well, I am. And it’s all your fault.

“What time is the game tomorrow?” I ask, deciding to drop it to avoid looking too invested.

If he doesn’t want to tell me what’s upsetting him, then there isn’t anything I can do about it. If I keep digging . . . what happens if I don’t want to stop?

“Kickoff is at seven. I’ll be there a few hours early, and you and Nate will come closer to the game. It shouldn’t interfere with school.”

“I assume we have tickets already?”

His grin is smug. “Not tickets. Passes , Blakely. Get with it.”

“And do you have these passes for me?”

“Nah. I’ll grab them after practice today. For right now, we need to focus on getting you and Nate game-ready. Think he’d be up to rooting through my old jerseys?”

A loud thump in the hallway has Jamie lunging out of the room. Even looking like he’s been out at a bar crawl all night, he’s alert, his reflexes sharp.

“Jesus, Nate. You scared the hell out of me,” he pants.

“Did you say I could look through your old jerseys? And that we get to watch the game tomorrow on the field ?” Nate rambles, exposing his eavesdropping.

I swallow a laugh and lie back in bed, tucking the chilled covers beneath my chin. It was only a couple of hours ago that I snuck out of Jamie’s bed and into this one. God, how mortifying would it have been if he’d come home and seen me sleeping in his bed?

I’d only meant to stay there for a little while. He wasn’t home, and I knew he wouldn’t be for hours. It’s my fault for not napping like he suggested and instead forced myself to the brink of passing out at the kitchen table after dinner. My bed wasn’t working, so on a whim, I went to his.

I fell asleep in only a few minutes, surrounded by dark sheets, expensive cologne, and a deep sense of safety.

Fuck, it was so creepy of me to go in there. He may have offered his bed to me, but he could have just not thought I’d use it. Like one of those offers you only make to avoid feeling bad while hoping it’s never taken.

With a sigh, I think back to the glass patio door and the glimmer of backyard lights on the walls of his bedroom. If I hadn’t been so exhausted, I’d have gone outside to lie on the grass and count the stars without wondering if I was going to be accosted by someone. With the tall fence around me, I’d have felt safe the same way I do in this house.

“Are you coming, Blakely?”

I blink, focusing on Nathan as he stands beside the bed. Jamie is a few paces back, watching us while pretending not to.

“Yeah, give me a minute to get dressed. We don’t have too much time this morning, Nate. You’ve got school in an hour,” I remind him.

Nate beams at me, more excited than ever. “Yeah, yeah, I know! We’ll wait in the hall.”

I ignore the soft expression on Jamie’s face and slip out of bed, grateful for the flannel pyjama pants I slipped on when I got back to my room. If he knew I wore only an oversized shirt and panties in his bed, he’d be unbearable.

Right now, I doubt he even wants to look at me. I’m not a pretty sleeper, so combine the mess that is my hair with ratty old PJs, and I’m sure he’s trying to hold back from tearing out of here in disgust.

I move a little faster now, pulling some clothes out of my old bag sitting atop the gorgeous white wood dresser.

“You can unpack, you know. You’re going to be here for a while,” Jamie notes.

Nate hovers beside him by the door, frowning at the bag as if he’s just now realized that I haven’t taken my clothes out of it. He’s been unpacked from the hour after we got here the first day. That’s just how he is, though.

When I’m bursting with fear and doubt, he’s calm and sure. This move was easy for him while terrifying for me.

“I’ll do it soon,” I mutter.

Jamie doesn’t push it further. “Alright.”

Lifting my clothes in front of me, I arch a brow at the two guys. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Right. We’ll be in the hall,” Jamie blurts, walking backward out of the room and taking Nate with him.

Once they’re both gone, I shut the door and take my clothes to the ensuite. A few minutes later, I’m watching Nate root through a giant bin of old football jerseys with wide, wild eyes. There must be at least fifty of them, all of which have apparently been worn before.

I’m not sure if that’s cool or disgusting.

“Are you sure I can choose any of them?” Nate asks, finally pausing his search with a white-knuckled grip on an orange jersey.

Jamie nods from his spot beside me, his hands tucked in his pockets and posture loose. “Yeah, buddy. All they do is sit in this bin now.”

“I choose this one, then.”

Nate stands and yanks the jersey over his head before tugging it the rest of the way down. It’s a few sizes too big, but from the cheek-splitting grin on his face, it’s obvious he doesn’t care one bit.

“Do you want to wash it first, Nate?” I ask carefully.

“Shit, do you think I put all my sweaty gear into bins to save for later? Have a little faith in me, Bandit,” Jamie jokes through a low laugh. “They’ve all been washed.”

I glare at him. “How am I supposed to know that?”

“You’ve spent too much time with dirty boys. ”

“Lake doesn’t even spend time with boys,” Nate pipes in, staring down at the front of his chosen jersey.

I huff, palming my hips. “I’m going to glue your mouth shut, Nathan.”

“It’s okay, Nate. I’m the only boy she needs now, right?”

My brother pauses his fanboying over the jersey and inspects Jamie, something passing between them that I can’t grab onto.

Nate shimmies his shoulders in his new jersey and passes us, heading for the door. “Yeah. You are getting married, after all.”

“Do we start a countdown now or something? To make it more official?” Jamie asks, his brows dancing.

“You haven’t been counting down already?” I ask.

Nate laughs at my question before leaving, apparently done with our little closet hangout. He’s probably going to stare at himself in the bathroom mirror for the next hour.

Jamie watches him leave and then turns his body to face me fully, the weight of his full attention smacking into me face first. Handsome in a reckless yet charming way, he’s the perfect example of an up-to-no-good playboy. The exact type of guy I never think twice about.

It’s becoming a bit harder to stick to that habit.

“One week tomorrow, baby,” he purrs, his voice so soft the words kiss my cheeks.

I move closer, hovering only a few inches from his front. He tracks the movement with a coy smile, light dancing in his eyes for the first time today.

“For tomorrow . . .” I start, my fingers tingling as I raise them to rest on his bicep. His tongue slips past his lips to swipe along them as he stays still, aside from the muscles beneath my fingers that flex. “It’s our first night out together. As an engaged couple.”

“That’s right.”

“So, we need to act the part.”

He sways closer, the heat from his body curling around mine and urging me to lean forward just a little more. My hold on his arm has grown stronger, wider as my fingers spread and glide around the thick muscle.

“I’m listening,” he rasps.

“You can touch me.”

It’s out there before I can take it back. I don’t say another word, waiting and waiting . . .

I’m not sure what I was expecting. A hand in mine or another kiss on my head, maybe.

The firm pressure of his hand on my waist as he hitches me forward to rest against his body is almost as surprising as the one that cups my jaw and tips my head back.

I suck in a breath and go lax in his hold, a blast of comfort settling deep in my chest.

“Like this?” he asks lowly, his tone rough.

Jesus, when did his eyes get so blue? Even with his pupils swelling, they’re so vibrant, like the kind of sky you get lost in, the kind that promises warmth after years of frigid winter. And I’m not sure I’m ready for that, but here he is—offering it anyway.

His thumb moves, stroking the skin so close to my mouth that if I turned into his palm, I’d be able to taste him. A shiver starts at the top of my spine and grows in intensity when I refuse to let it travel further.

“Blakely?”

I look at him through my lashes and press the hand not holding him against my thigh, not surprised by the wet heat of my palm.

“Yes. That’s good,” I whisper.

“Can I try something else?”

My stomach explodes. “Like what?”

“Just tell me to stop at any time,” he murmurs.

His fingertips slip behind my skull, kneading my scalp as he guides my head back further. Heart racing, I give in to my desire to touch him more and reach desperately for his hip, as if that will help stabilize me .

Instead, it only intensifies our connection and has me pressing further into his body. He’s just so warm and steady. I don’t jerk back when he lowers his head and brings his mouth so, so close to my nose.

My nails slip beneath his shirt to scrape at the bare skin above the band of his jeans, and I swear I hear a low groan slip up his throat. It’s gone before I can be sure.

I’m prepared for him to kiss me. It would be the next step, especially if we’re supposed to put on an act for the world tomorrow, right? I can kiss him like this and do it again tomorrow, just as practice. It’s simple. Meaningless. Exactly the way I like it.

But no. His lips don’t touch mine.

They brush my cheek instead, far enough away from my mouth that when I sigh, I know he doesn’t feel the hot puff of my breath.

He’s in front of me and then gone in the span of a blink. The pink tint of his cheeks slowly fades as he smiles, a dimple popping.

“Was that okay?”

I drop my hands instantly and stumble backward, putting distance between us. I’m so hot, so tense, it’s like I’ve just been dipped in hot wax and yanked back out.

“It was fine. If you’re wondering if you can do it tomorrow, then yes,” I answer him, trying to keep my tone as distant as possible.

I don’t think he believes me, but he lets it go. The closet is crowded, even without Nate in here with us, and I need to get out.

“Come on. I already have a jersey for you,” he says, recognizing my habit of retreating.

“The ones in the bin don’t work?”

“No. My wife isn’t going to be wearing an old jersey with grass stains.”

“I thought you washed them. ”

His laugh is a welcome sound. Almost like a reset button.

“I have. But some stains don’t come out no matter how much time we spend scrubbing them.”

Our eyes catch and hold, the real meaning behind his statement in the open for me to catch. I nod and follow him out of the closet.

I’ve watched football before. Obviously . Nathan’s been playing since he was six years old, and I’ve been in attendance of at least half of his games.

I know what a touchdown is and that there are three downs. Although, that’s only in the CFL as Nathan so dutifully told me on the way to the stadium.

He tried to give me a bucketload of pointers in the cab, and I’m proud to say that I remember at least ten percent of them. Jamie absolutely put him up to the quick tutor session, and I’m a bit spiteful of that. He should have sat me down and taught me himself. Win or lose tonight, he isn’t getting off without being bugged about it.

A cool breeze rips through the field, and I tug at the sleeves of my shirt to cover my hands. The game hasn’t started yet, and I’m already freezing. It’s not like it’s in the negatives yet, but with only a long-sleeve shirt on beneath the thin jersey Jamie gave me, I’m a bit underdressed. Nathan was smart enough to put a hoodie on beneath his jersey, at least.

The chill I’m feeling could be from more than the temperature, though.

Jamie’s coach is already out, along with at least a dozen unfamiliar faces, all of whom haven’t hidden their curiosity about my brother’s and my presence. My skin has been itching for the last half hour that we’ve been here, standing well enough behind the team’s staff to avoid getting in the way.

Nathan’s having the time of his life, not sharing my anxiousness. He’s been smiling and waving at the members of the team huddling around and shouting directions.

We didn’t arrive early enough to catch warm-ups, and I know that disappointed him a bit. However, he has spent quite a few minutes gawking at the cheerleaders across the field. One even gave him a wiggling finger wave after a short cheer, and he got so nervous he blushed.

Restrained chaos is the best way to describe what it’s like on the sidelines. Every minute that ticks toward the players coming out, the stands become fuller, the hum of conversation growing in volume. The coaching staff for both teams seem to become antsier, and the people running along the sidelines with cameras keep swaying our way, like they’re debating coming over and asking who the hell we are.

The name and number on the back of our jerseys are impossible to miss, but throw in the dual black sevens Nathan demanded we paint on our cheeks, and there’s no mistake about who we’re here for.

In only a few hours, our lives are going to be very different. I’m not a public person, but that won’t matter. While my background is clean enough for the team to agree to me being involved, that doesn’t mean it’s not still smudged with a bit of dirt. Nothing about my life growing up is pretty, and knowing that there isn’t anything I can do to keep it a secret has made me uncomfortable. I just have to push past it and try not to spend too much energy worrying about what other people are going to think.

If Jamie doesn’t care, why should it matter if other people do?

Nathan elbows me in the side, and I jerk away, hissing, “What was that for?”

His eyes dart to the left over and over until finally, I follow them and realize Coach Tanner is coming over. My stomach tightens as I keep my expression flat, collected.

“Blakely,” the older man says, tipping his chin. He looks to my brother. “And Nathan, right?”

He’s in the same team jacket he was wearing in the owner’s office the night I met him, but this time, he’s added a matching hat and holds a clipboard against his chest.

“Yeah. Y-yes. I’m Nathan. It’s so awesome to meet you, Coach,” Nathan stammers, shooting his hand out.

The coach takes it, shaking it firmly. “You too. I hope you’re not too uncomfortable over here. The team will be coming out any minute now, but we don’t have chairs or anything.”

“Do people not stand over here during games?” I ask, glancing at the lack of other non-Pythons team members on the sidelines.

“Down on the field? No.”

“But we’re allowed to?”

It sounds ridiculous. I get the whole needing to make a statement thing, but for such a big field, there isn’t all that much room for an audience down here. Getting in the way of staff or players isn’t an ideal situation for me.

The coach levels me an understanding look. “I wouldn’t expect to be down here for many more games. Just make it past this one, and I’m sure you’ll be up in the stands for the rest of them.”

“That’s reassuring.”

“You’re needed down here to grab wandering eyes, specifically the media’s. Just try not to distract Jamie. I need him in the game and not chasing your attention.”

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” I reveal with a scoffed laugh.

He doesn’t look as sure. “Wouldn’t put money down on that. Anyway, the team’s coming out in a minute. Just . . .” The smile he gives me is more of an awkward grimace. “Just stay in the open but not in my way. ”

“Stay visible but not too visible. Got it.”

With another dip of his chin, he pats my brother’s arm and then heads back to where he came from.

Nate’s awestruck voice fills the space around us. “We just met Riley Tanner.”

“You did. I’ve already met him,” I tease.

He bumps my shoulder. “This is insane, Lake. Like, the most insane thing that’s ever happened to me.”

I put my arm around his shoulders and lean against him, grateful that he’s here with me today. For support, but more importantly, this entire experience. Never in a million years did I think I’d be able to give him a night on the Pythons’ sidelines or a meeting with their head coach.

That itself is worth everything I’m doing.