Page 2

Chapter 1

Tyler

D rills with the team were brutal today. Well, not necessarily the team, but with Ryder, our rookie linebacker. You’d think I have a Mafia hit out on my head for as hard as he was tackling me, but then again, maybe I’m just starting to feel my age.

I’m twenty-nine years old and a tight end for the Tampa Tarpons, a professional football team. The peak performance for a tight end in the NFL is usually from ages twenty-five to twenty-seven, and the average tight end retires around twenty-seven and a half. I’m not oblivious to the fact that I’m on borrowed time. I’m also not immune to the hits anymore. My body aches and feels every play so much more than it did when I joined the Tarpons at twenty-two. Do I think I’m in the best shape of my life? Yes, but that doesn’t change how the hits feel.

In just a few weeks, I’m about to kick off my eighth season with the Tarpons. Every year, I say a little prayer that they let me stay, and I’ve found myself incredibly blessed and grateful to have been with the same team for my entire career. And don’t get me started on how much these guys feel like family.

Especially Jonah and my girl Vivi.

It’s funny how you don’t know that you need something or someone until they show up and become a part of your life. Jonah has been with the team for two and a half years now, and next to Lance, who I’ve known the longest, he is my best friend.

Speaking of Lance, his name and ugly mug flash across the digital screen in my truck. I smile at the image because if he knew I had it, he would kick my ass.

Lance was my college freshman roommate in the athletes’ dorm. And little did I know at the time, he would become my only roommate. We stuck together for four years and quickly moved from the freshman dorm to an apartment.

I hit accept call on my steering wheel and smile.

“Bro,” I say to him. I can’t remember the last time we talked on the phone. Mostly, it’s through text and memes, making fun of each other.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

“Same stuff, different day. You rarely call me. You good?”

He pauses, then lets out a deep exhale.

“Barbecue,” he says. My foot lets up off the gas, and the smile slips from my face.

“Are you in town?” I ask, wondering what’s going on and instantly feeling anxious that something is wrong with him, Casey, or the boys.

“Not exactly,” he draws out.

Barbecue is our code word, the one we came up with in college for our 911 word. Emergencies, bailouts, whatever—when that word is spoken, we both know it’s serious.

“What does that mean? Not exactly.”

It’s approximately twenty-two minutes from the practice facilities to my house, and just a few more minutes from there to get to the airport. It’s eleven hours if I drive straight to his house.

“Lily’s in town.”

Lily.

His younger sister.

That edge of uncomfortableness under my skin at him using our code word recedes, and my shoulders drop as I relax into the driver’s seat and cross the bridge that heads onto Davis Islands where I live.

“Okay, and you want me to do what? Take her to dinner?”

I think back to the last time that I saw her. It was four years ago after the birth of Lance’s oldest son. She had just graduated from college, which means she’s got to be in her mid-twenties now.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to you showing her around.”

Showing her around. Does that mean she’s moving here? A weight drops in my stomach as I think about that asshole quarterback she dates. Is he being picked up or traded to the Tarpons? I really hope fucking not. I can’t stand that guy, and he would be horrible for the morale on our team.

“Is she moving here? What about that dick boyfriend of hers?”

He hums.

“You could say she’s moving there, at least temporarily, and they broke up.”

They broke up.

Lance and his family have to be thrilled. I know the world thinks this guy is top-notch. He sure knows how to turn on the all-American charm, but those closest to them have seen and heard it all. He isn’t anyone I would want dating my sister.

“Oh. Well, good for her, then. Where is she staying?”

He pauses, and every hair on my arms stands up.

“About that?—”

“No.” My vision slightly blurs.

“Don’t say no. Hear me out,” he says, using his dad voice.

“Lance, I don’t do roommates. You know this, and you know why.”

“Ty, please. What do you care if she’s there? You know how she is. She’ll probably stay in her room the whole time. Besides, you'll have the added bonus of your place constantly being cleaned, and there will be food in the house.”

I do know how she is. Yes, she’s quiet and has always been sweet, but she’s his sister, so it’s weird, and I don’t have people in my space.

“I have a house cleaner, and you know I eat at Jonah’s.”

Of all the guys on the team, Jonah means the most to me. He’s a wide receiver, offense like me, and the only person outside of Lance who I would ever consider as a roommate. It’s even written into my contract with the team: If hotel availability is limited when we’re on the road, I’ll room with Jonah. Otherwise, I get my own room. I don’t share my space.

“Did you ever stop to think that maybe Jonah doesn’t want you there all the time?”

Of course I’ve thought about that. I’m pretty good at reading the room. I can tell when he wants to be alone or if it’s just a random night and he doesn’t mind the company.

“Vivi loves me.”

Vivi is his seven-year-old niece who he has guardianship over. Two and a half years ago, his brother and sister-in-law tragically died in a car accident, and Vivi became his. The team as a whole, but especially me, has rallied around them to give them support. I’m Uncle Tyler now, and considering I’m an only child, it’s a damn good feeling.

“Of course she does, but what happens when Jonah starts dating? Are you going to be the fourth wheel?”

I don’t bother telling him that he already is. That’ll just prove his point.

“It’s not like that.”

“Listen, my sister is not a gold-digging whore. She won’t be in your way, and she just needs a place to hide out for a while. Figure things out and stay out of the public eye. I’ve already seen posts online of people asking where she is, and you know that once the season starts and the breakup gets out, things will get worse before they get better. I need you. She needs you.”

I grit my teeth.

“Why didn’t she go to your house?”

“I offered, but she wants to be on her own.”

“On her own does not mean staying with someone.”

He lets out a deep sigh. “It won’t be for long, I promise. Ty, it makes me feel so much better knowing that she’ll be with you and not alone. People are crazy, you know this. You’ll never let anything happen to her. She just needs this for a short while. I’ll make sure she knows she needs to stay out of your way and figure it out quickly. It’s my sister, bro. Barbecue.”

It’s my turn to sigh because even with all my protestations, with that one word, he knows he’s got me.

“Fine. But one day, I’m going to call in a huge favor, and you’re going to honor it.”

“I’ll definitely owe you one,” he says on a large exhale.

“Yeah, you do.”

We finish the call, and not surprisingly, as I pull up to my house, there’s a small black fancy SUV sitting on the curb outside. Of course he didn’t give me time to let this settle in or change my mind, which he knew was a strong possibility. He waited until the last moment to call me. I can feel my mouth turn down into a scowl as unhappiness drips into my veins. She’s not even in the vehicle, which only means one thing—he told her where the key is, and she’s in my house, in my space.

An uncomfortable feeling prickles its way across my skin.

Parking in the driveway, I take my time to collect my emotions as I get out of the truck and grab my things. I walk through the garage, and there sitting next to the door leading into the house are two silver suitcases and what looks like a pair of small white tennis shoes.

Great.

At least she didn’t move straight in. I appreciate that she left her things outside in case I said no.

I bought this house a few years ago with the intent of being able to sell it quickly if I was traded. It’s not a large house. It’s also not a new house. It was built in the 1950s, but each owner has impeccably taken care of it and upgraded it along the way. It’s roughly twenty-five hundred square feet. It has what was probably two bedrooms downstairs, but one is so small it’s definitely an office, and one large primary suite on the second level. I’ve never needed anything more because the only people I’ve ever let stay with me are my parents and Lance.

But the thing I love the most about the house is that it’s on a canal which leads straight out into the bay. This house came equipped with a boat dock and lift, and next to being under the lights on the field, being on the water is my favorite place in the world.

Sucking up my irritation, I push open the door and head inside. I round the corner that leads into the kitchen, and there, across the open space, sitting cross-legged like a tiny ball in the middle of my couch in the living room, is Lily.

Lily. Fucking. Kent.

Of course she’s even more beautiful than the last time I saw her. Not that I didn’t think she was beautiful then, I’ve always thought she was, but now she’s older, and it’s different. And don’t get me started on that damn hair of hers, which is loosely tied up on top of her head with some of it having escaped and hanging by her face. I already know it has the power to bring me to my knees. This is not good. She cannot stay here. At least not for long. I need her in and out.

“Hi,” she says, her voice cutting through the air and pulling me from my inner meltdown. My eyes find hers, they’re so blue they’re almost turquoise, and they instantly remind me of the water along the shoreline. I hate that it’s my favorite color, and I hate that every time I look at her face, I’ll see it.

“Hi,” I answer back. I’m trying not to be rude, but I’m certain she hears the gruffness. I set my bag down on the floor, then my keys on the counter, and slowly move into the living room to take the seat across from her. I do my best not to look directly at her, but it’s really hard. It’s also really odd to see someone on my couch. In. My. Spot. My space is my space, so having her in it makes it feel like it’s shrinking.

“I know this isn’t what you were expecting today, but I want you to know I really appreciate the offer,” she says, eyes all big and doe-like. And if I’m reading her correctly, she’s nervous.

I lean back in the chair, cross one ankle over the opposite knee and my arms over my chest. I’m completely closed off, and I’m certain she can tell, but the truth is, I haven’t offered anything. Lance did. But just these couple of moments looking at her, I know I eventually would have. Lance isn’t wrong; she definitely needs a place to hide if she broke up with that ass of an ex-boyfriend. She is absolutely recognizable. There’s no blending into the crowd for her. Anyone who is a Dean Davis fan, which, unfortunately, too many people are, then they know her.

That irritation I originally felt bleeds away, and in its place, a protectiveness takes over.

“No problem. Can’t say I’m sorry to hear you finally got rid of that asshole.”

Her gaze drops to her hands, which are holding her phone in her lap, and her cheeks tint pink. I’m not sure if it’s because I embarrassed her or if she’s sad that I brought it up. Man, I hope she’s not sad. I didn’t even consider this. It’s one thing to have her here, but it’s another to have a heartbroken, weepy girl here too.

“Yeah, well, we can save that topic for another day,” she says, her eyes coming back to find mine. “I like your fish,” she says, catching me off guard.

I glance over my shoulder, and next to my boat, I look at my other pride and joy, my custom-built saltwater fish tank. And it’s not just any fish tank, it’s my kitchen island. The whole island. Yes, there’s ventilation on each end, but 90 percent of the top is covered with a large butcher block perfect for prepping food or seating four. The company I hired to build it was thrilled with the project, and since advertising mine, while keeping me anonymous, they’ve sold several more.

“Thanks, I kind of have a thing for fish.”

“I remember,” she says, which has my brain pausing. In so many ways, this girl is a stranger since I really don’t know anything about her, but at the same time, she’s not. Technically, I’ve known her since she was a teenager, still with acne and a baby face. “Lance told me you don’t do roommates, so again, I really appreciate it.”

“I don’t, but for him, I would do anything.”

And I would. She and I might not know each other that well, but considering the years and the friendship that Lance and I have, she should know that.

She lets out a deep sigh and shifts on the couch. She was toned the last time I saw her, but by her posture and the fit of her shirt, it’s easy to see she’s ramped up the exercising. Something I shouldn’t be noticing.

Lance’s little sister , I chant in my head.

Needs my help.

Roommate.

“Are there any rules you might have for me?” she asks, again pulling me from my thoughts. Suddenly, I’m thrown off. Should I have rules? Do others who have roommates have rules? This isn’t something I’ve ever considered. I’ve just chosen to be roommate-free, on purpose.

“Like what?” I ask her, my foot shaking, as this entire scenario puts me on edge.

Little sister. Rules. Roommate. In my space.

“I don’t know,” she says slowly. “Rooms you don’t want me to go into, foods you don’t want me to cook, things like that.”

“I, uh, I just found out about you being here a few minutes ago, so I haven’t really thought that through yet, but I’ll get back to you.” It’s the best answer I can give her.

Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops. “You didn’t know I was coming?”

“Nope.”

This time, not only do her cheeks turn from pink to red but so does her neck and her ears. “I’m going to kill Lance. I am so sorry. I can leave if you want me to. I have no problem going to a hotel. This was Lance’s idea, and while I did think it was a good one, I thought the two of you had at least talked about it. You know what? I can just go.” She points her thumb over her shoulder and unfolds her legs. Legs that are long, smooth, and perfect looking.

My stomach clenches, and if I wouldn’t look ridiculous, I’d punch myself in the face.

Lance’s little sister.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t mind.” Well, I actually do, but I’m not an ass, and I’ll figure something out. “There’s a bedroom down the hall over there. That’ll be yours.” I point toward the room on the right side that overlooks the front yard. It’s not large, but it’s big enough, and it’ll serve its purpose.

“Are you sure?” she asks, her words bordering on skeptical and embarrassed.

“Yep.”

“You don’t sound sure,” she says. There’s a wariness in her tone, not that I blame her. She basically showed up here unannounced, but it’ll be fine.

“I would do anything for Lance.”