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Silence fills the cavernous space as Coach Greene stands before us, clipboard in hand. “Hello, gentleman. You can relax,” he says, holding out his hands when several of the players rise to their feet. “I’m just stopping by to talk about something our team does every year.” His gaze tracks the room, bouncing fromface-to-face. “For the rookies here, the Ann Arbor Griffins have a program called Griffins’ Gifts. Veterans already know about the volunteer work we do, but it’s pretty simple. Here, at AU football, we believe strongly in giving back to our community, so a few years ago, we created the program for that very reason. Basically, several times a year, particularly around holidays and big events, we perform some kind of charity work or do something nice for the people of Ann Arbor. At Christmastime, we bring gifts to the kids in the oncology pediatric unit. On Labor Day, we participate with a float in the parade. Those are just two examples. Each player must volunteer at least once a year to meet their obligation to the team, and the first events of the season are this week, so, I thought I’d drop by to let you know.”
He nods toward the exit to the locker room. “Sign-ups are on the door. Again, it’s only mandatory to participate once a year, other than the parade, so if you can’t find the time this month, there will be plenty of opportunities.”
Coach turns to leave, then swivels back around. “Oh, and Damon, those drills you’ve been doing have really paid off. Gabe, your footwork’s lacking. Need to work on it, brother.” He points his pencil at Briggs, our cornerback. “Great job containing the receiver. And Jace . . .” He grins. “Nice hands.”
“Nice hands,” Chris mocks beside me as Coach leaves and I whip my towel at him. I know he’s just messing with me, but damn, it feels good to hear Coach verbally acknowledge my work is paying off.
“Wonder if it would be wise to get this volunteer thing over with while we have more time on our hands?” I ask.
One or two guys rise from their spots on the bleachers and head toward the sign-up sheets while Damon shrugs. “Totally up to you. I always do the Christmas gigs. It’s pretty cool because if we’ve had an awesome season, fans are especially pumped tosee us. But I’ll admit, it’s nuts trying to squeeze something in throughout the fall, so go for it.”
“Worth at least checking it out,” Chris says. “See what they have.”
I’m already moving toward the door when I call out, “You coming?”
I feel Chris at my side while I stop and scan the sheet. The top of the page is for a gig reading children’s books at the library, but one of the other guys who beat us to it has already snagged it. A visit to a nursing home. Meet and greet at Rainbow Babies Children’s hospital . . .
I blow out a shaky breath and wince. “Damn. Just the thought of sick kids . . . Not sure I can do it.”
Chris nods, his expression stony. “I had a cousin who fought cancer growing up. It was rough for everyone.” He shrugs. “I’ll take it.”
I place a hand on his shoulder. “You’re a better man than me,” I say, and then my gaze snags on an entry at the bottom of the sheet for a flag football event at Helping Hands.
Helping Hands.I repeat the name over and over until it clicks. A memory of Brynn pops in my head. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch, her hair mussed from running her hands through it, telling me about the volunteer work she signed up for to occupy her time and hopefully give her an edge on her resume.
“I’ll take this one,” I say, quickly scrawling my name below it.
“Flag football with the kids at Helping Hands?” Chris reads with brows drawn, before he frowns. “Damn, that sounds like fun. I should’ve taken that one.”
“Brynn helps out there.”
Chris turns to me, one brow raised with a shit-eating grin. “She does, does she?” He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Interesting. I distinctly recall only a few weeks back you claiming that there was nothing going on between you, and nowjust look at you. Skipping the club to stay in with her. Sending a good lay home because you couldn’t stop thinking about her—”
Shit. I knew telling Chris about that would come back to haunt me.
“Crashing dates,” he continues, ticking each thing off on his fingers. “Cuddling together without sex. Volunteering at the same places . . .” He trails off with a shake of the head.
“So?” I cross my arms over my chest, feeling an odd pressure in my chest.
Chris tips his head back and lets out a loud belly laugh. “Oh fuck. You are so gone.”
“Maybe I like her, so what?” I shrug, which only makes him laugh harder.
“Oh, you more than like her, dude. Just admit it.” He reaches out and ruffles my hair like I’m a toddler and I swat his arm away. “Youwuvher.”
I roll my eyes at him and head back to my locker, but I don’t deny it. What can I say? I’ve never felt this way about anyone. I don’t even know how to define it. I couldn’t if I tried. All I know is the more time I spend with her, the more I hate being apart.
I slide my shorts off, followed by my boxer briefs, then grab a towel and sling it around my waist. When I slam the metal door closed, Chris is there, staring at me with a rueful smile. It’s times like these he really reminds me of the boys back home, which makes me wish I could talk to them about this, hash out what I’m feeling. But this is the one thing I can’t share with them, and it fucking sucks. I hate keeping things from them.
Chris props his shoulder against the locker, and stares at me with shrewd eyes. “Maybe you just need to hook up. All that pent-up sexual tension isn’t good for anybody. Once you do, she’ll either be out of your system, or . . . ”
“Or?” I grind my teeth and the muscle in my jaw pulses. Referring to Brynn as nothing more than a hookup rubs me the wrong way.
Chris’s expression turns serious. “OrI’ll be going to your wedding in a few years.”
“Fuck off.” I retort, causing Chris to laugh. “I might like her, but she’s also my best friend’s sister. I’m not sure how far this can go. He’d have my ass if he found out.”
“Dude.” Chris pushes off the lockers. “He goes to school in a whole other state. He doesn’t even have to know.”
