“Yeah, that works.” I nod. But my stomach knots as I think about telling my brother.
“He needs to hear it from me before some rumor spreads. He knows who you are. He knows who your family is. If I tell him this is real, I think he’ll understand.”
I look at her, taking in the small, fierce line of her jaw. She’s ready to face it all for us. Ready to put her reputation and her career on the line just to be with me.
“Okay,” I say firmly. “I can come with you so I can look him in the eye so he knows this isn’t just some fling for me.”
“Aston,” she says, placing a kiss on my lips, “he’ll see what you feel for me. You kinda suck at hiding it.”
I belt out a laugh because she’s not wrong.
“Yeah, I’d say I’m gone,” I say against her lips, my hands sliding under the hem of her sweater, finding the soft, burning heat of the skin at her waist. “And there’s no going back.”
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ASTON
During the season,the locker room smells like sweat, Gatorade, and various medical ointments. But on the Monday after our playoff loss, the air is heavy with the flat scent of plastic garbage bags, cardboard, and cleaners.
I sit on the bench in front of my cubby, my hands wrapped around the black bag we use to donate gear. I already put a few of my jerseys in, a few pairs of gloves, and some workout gear. Some things we sign, but others go into the bags, and then the organization distributes them to various charities and whatnot.
“Look at this,” Brody says from two lockers down, tossing an unopened container of pre-workout powder into his bag. “I was looking for this and thought I was losing my mind. Huh.” He chuckles. “Kind of feels like we’re getting evicted. Or moving out of our dorms in college.”
“You are getting evicted, Vaughn,” Saint rumbles. He’s hunched over as he rolls up his custom knee braces. “The Offensive Coordinator looked at your tape on that third-down slant route and probably changed the door codes while we were still in the shower.”
He’s teasing. Sort of.
“Fuck off. That jam was illegal,” Brody grumbles. I think the fatigue is hitting us now, so there’s not any heat to his defense. “Pitz, tell him the corner held me.”
Liam doesn’t look up from his own locker. He’s stacking his clean undershirts in a methodical way. He took a hard hit to the ribs in the second quarter, and I know he’s still feeling it by the way he winces whenever he reaches for something. “He definitely held you, Brody. But the ref was looking at the backfield. Just let it go. We need to move on.”
I watch them and think about the season. And Liam is right; we need to keep moving. I mean, shit, the franchise is already shifting its weight toward the spring draft. It’s just a weird feeling to go from busting ass for months to just stopping. It can make your head spin.
But the sting of the loss is a little bitter for me, too, because I missed Thanksgiving and Christmas with my family. It’s part of the game, but it feels like forever since I’ve seen them all. The only thing easing the sting of it all is the brown-haired beauty with a sarcastic mouth, who texted me the second our plane touched down after the game.
Eva: Didn’t have a chance to see you after the game. Sorry about the loss. It was a good battle. I’ll come over when I wrap up here.
“Griff is staring off into space again,” Saint says, tossing a roll of athletic tape at me. “What’s the matter, buddy? You thinking about that interior stunt we blew in the first quarter, or are you planning your summer in Texas?”
I catch the next roll of tape he throws, my fingers locking around the canvas. I look up, my eyes sweeping across the three of them—the guys who have held the line with me since the season started in August. “Nah, I’m not thinking about the stunt,” I say, my voice dropping.
Liam stops stacking his shirts, his eyes cutting over to me. He knows the change in my tone better than anyone.
“What’s up, Aston?” Liam asks quietly, leaning his shoulder against the frame of his cubby.
I let out a slow, deep breath, and a small, crooked smile breaks through. “Just thinking about a girl. The one I mentioned to you guys.”
Brody freezes, and he steps closer. “Who? Is it someone I know?”
“Yeah.” I chuckle, rubbing the back of my neck. I mean, if we’re going to start telling people we’re together, I might as well tell my friends. “It’s Eva.”
“No shit.” Brody cracks a grin. “Griff, you dawg. She’s a boss. I watched her chew out a three-man crew in Dallas because they’d missed a secondary alignment change, and I almost took a knee out of respect.”
I turn my head toward Saint, expecting him to make a comment, but he just leans back, crossing his arms over his chest with a knowing smirk on his lips.
“You seriously didn’t pick up on it?” Saint shakes his head with a low chuckle. “They couldn’t keep their eyes off each other on the sidelines or when we were at Liam and Alie’s for dinner.”
“Wait, what? You knew?” Brody snaps, looking between us. “And nobody told me?”
