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Chapter 25

Tyler

I swear, it’s hot as balls out here today.

Florida in August and September is stupid. There’s no reason for us to have this game at one o’clock today, yet here we are, sweating our asses off in basically the direct sun. And it isn’t just us. The fans are dying, too. Even poor Lily. More than once, I’ve caught her fanning herself and wiping her face.

I get it, I do. We can’t have all of our games at eight during prime time, but the northern states should definitely have their games at the one o’clock time slot. That or they build us a dome for better working conditions.

Speaking of working conditions, don’t get me started on this stupid mic that’s driving me crazy. I can’t believe they talked me into this. Well, I should say forced. Apparently, it’s in our contracts that we are to be complicit with whatever the organization requires of us, and social media falls under media and marketing.

They couldn’t even wait until the game started. Danica had to put it on me starting at warm-ups.

Also, ask anyone if they’re surprised that I’m mic’d up for this game, and they’ll tell you no. When the mic’d-up list first came out, I was scheduled for a game later in the season, but they sure did make that change super quick after all the commotion last weekend. I bet they’re just sitting on the sidelines salivating and waiting for something to happen today.

Which it won’t because I’m not a dumbass.

Even Lily, she eyed the wire like it was going to catch her on fire when I met her on the sideline and we did our pinky shake. We didn’t exchange any sort of conversation, just a few eye gestures toward the offensive device and one of me looking her over appreciatively. That shirt with my name on it, tiny white shorts, heeled sandals, and big hoop earrings—she does it for me, and I have to take a few deep breaths to keep myself in check in these tight pants. I’d hate to embarrass us both. She wished me luck with a flirty smile that nearly brought me to my knees. I thanked her for coming, and we did our pinky shake.

Lily.

I’m proud that she came today, given the fact that he’s here. I told her she didn’t have to, but she likes spending time with Camille, Sophie, and Lexi. She’s also starting to come out of her shell more. It’s been nice to watch. The girl who showed up a few months ago was closed off, wary of the world, and spent more time hiding than anything else. And if we’re all being honest, it’s fair to say she was even hiding from herself.

That’s what he did to her. It pisses me off just thinking about it, and I have to roll my head to crack the tension in my neck.

But now, she’s coming to my games, we’ve gone out to eat together more than once, she likes spending time with my friends, which are now our friends, and I think she is seriously considering the book signing.

A book signing just for her.

I’m so proud of her.

Maybe it’s because I’ve watched her grow over the years and make something of herself. Perhaps it’s because now we’re friends. Or maybe it’s because I feel so much more for her. Either way, she is incredible, and she did this all on her own.

“You ready to head in?” Ryder asks. We’ve been running routes against each other, trying to fake the other out and get by, all the while having the sun blare down on us. When we’re practicing, we’re at the training facility. There’s a roof over us. Being out here in the heat and the sun sucks.

“Yeah, let’s go,” I tell him, patting him on the back to head toward our tunnel. I’d love to run a cold towel over my head and drink some electrolytes.

“Do you like playing with what’s mine?” a voice asks behind us. I don’t even need to turn around to know who it is. He’s so narcissistic; he just can’t help himself. Whereas I thought just maybe I’d get through today without an interaction with him since we’re both on the offensive side of the team, I should have known he’d never let today go by without trying to get the last word in.

“Bro, what did you say?” Ryder asks as he and I both turn to see Dean and Brad Stoll standing there on the fifty-yard line. Dean’s arms are crossed over his chest. He’s attempting to look menacing, but I have four inches and at least thirty pounds on him.

“Do you like playing with what’s mine?” he asks again, in a tone that says he really believes this.

There is no explaining the hot pulse of jealousy as it pumps and burns through my veins. It’s fitting that sweat is rolling down the side of my face from the heat, when really all I can think is he’d had her for so long and nothing in this world sounds more horrible than that.

Why did she stay with this asshole for so long?

“I can assure you, I don’t have anything that belongs to you,” I tell him, emphasizing the word anything.

“Is that what you think?” He steps closer to me, across the line into Tarpons territory as a sign of intimidation, but all I see is a bug that needs to be squashed. “Is that what she tells you? If you haven’t figured it out by now, she’ll come back. She always does.”

Brad looks back and forth between the two of us and then steps up next to his QB. Whether or not he agrees with this conversation, it doesn’t matter. He’ll be there for his teammate, just like Ryder is standing next to me.

I smirk and the muscles in his face twitch.

He’s so full of shit. They’ve never been the couple to play the break-up-and-get-back-together game. They were solid. Lance would have known, and therefore, I would have. These things don’t stay hidden among your family. Certainly not one as close as they are.

With that smirk, he knows I know the truth, and he doesn’t like it.

“Dean, she is never getting back together with you. You blew it, and I know you know this.” I tilt my head. “But maybe it took her leaving for you to realize you lost the best person in the world?”

His eyes narrow as he hears what I’m basically confessing to and tries to imagine us together.

“Nah, man. She just needs to get this out of her system,” he says, like the thought disgusts him.

“Get what out?” I ask, noticing a few more players have wandered up to the conversation. I hate that he’s talking about her. She deserves better than this.

“This infatuation for you. She’s always had it. I knew it, her family and friends knew it, and I’m pretty sure you knew it too, which is why you begged her to come to Tampa.”

I honestly have no idea what he’s talking about, but you can bet your ass she and I will be discussing this later. Did she have an infatuation with me? Is he saying that basically I could have been with her all these years instead of him?

“How sad for you, then. To know your girl was dreaming about someone else. I wonder why that was? Certainly wouldn’t be because you took the time to really get to know her, ask her how her job is going, if she liked where you were living, or all the people you were constantly inviting over. I mean, hell, I’m certain you told her how much you loved her ideas and plans for your future.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. You know nothing about our relationship.” He bristles, his hands tightening into fists down by his sides.

“I know you don’t have one anymore, and that’s all that matters. And this doesn’t have anything to do with getting me out of her system because as far as I can tell, her system’s already been cleansed and is toxin-free.”

Could I have dropped an innuendo in there about me being in her system to throw more fuel on the fire? Absolutely. But this isn’t about me. It’s about her and putting this guy in his place.

“Just tell her to answer my texts. I’m ready for her to come home.”

And he still doesn’t get it. He’s so blind to reality that he thinks this is about him. What he wants, when he wants it, et cetera.

“Nah, I think I’ll pass. She likes the quiet. Something about how exhausting it is listening to you talk about yourself all the time.”

Brad shifts his weight from one foot to the next. I glance at him and think, yeah, even this guy’s got your number. It’s only a matter of time before the rest of the world sees who he really is, too.

“Ty, let’s go,” Ryder says, pulling on my arm while glaring at Dean.

“Just tell her,” he spits as if I would ever do anything for him.

“Fuck you.”

And with that, Ryder and I turn to walk back toward our sideline. Everyone on our sideline is watching me. Hell, I’m sure most of the fans and Lily are too, and with each step I take, my anger grows. Will I be using this on the field today? Absolutely. We will win today. There’s no way I’m letting that guy come into my house, talk about Lily as if she’s a possession of his, and then order me around. The audacity. It’s unbelievable.

“Wow, that guy’s a dick,” he mumbles.

“Didn’t you already know that?” I say through clenched teeth. More sweat rolls down my body, this time straight down my spine.

“No. Not really. I only know what the media says about him. I’ve never met him. Why would I? I’m a rookie, remember?”

“I’ll never understand why they’ve painted him as the ‘all-American quarterback.’ He sucks and is a pain in everyone’s ass.”

Can he turn on the charm? Sure, I’ve seen it for years. But he’s so self-absorbed that the Destroyers must pay off the media to keep his true nature from being shown.

“You going to tell her what he said?” he asks.

“Probably. I’m certain she saw us talking.” Along with the rest of the world. “I don’t want to hide things from her.”

I also want to clear up his assumption that she had a thing for me. Did she? Does she now? I mean, we’ve been a little flirty, and we’ve definitely gotten much closer. I’ve loved every second of it, but she’s never given me the go-ahead signal. Trust me, I’ve looked for it. Because if she shows even the slightest bit of confirmation, all rules about bro code when it comes to my best friend’s sister will be thrown out the window.

I want her.

I want to taste her. I want to feel her body against mine. Basically, I want to drown in her.

“Do you think she’ll call him?”

“No. She blocked him months ago.”

“Good for her.”

“Eight years too late in my opinion, but at least she figured it out.”

And it’s about time that I figured it out too.

“That’s right. Now she’s got you.” He bumps me in the shoulder, smiling.

She does.

My gaze tips up to the box she’s sitting in today. I instantly find her. She’s standing at the edge against the glass barrier, and even though she’s too far away to see the exact expression on her face, I know she’s worried. Worried about what was said. Worried about how I’m going to take it. And worried about what this will mean for her.

The truth is, she has nothing to worry about. No matter what, like Ryder said, she’s got me. And I think it’s time I tell her, too.