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“Yeah well, she hates being told what to do more than she likes me. And the two of them together outvoted me...a lot. I never had a chance.”
When we stop next to my car, Brandon places his big palm flat against the door. “Ashlyn...”
I spin around and look at him, feeling that same pang in my chest I do whenever he’s this close. “You’ve been avoiding me,” he grumbles, and the deep tenor of his voice brings me back to the night we met. Funny, the things you forget from a day or a week ago and others you can remember with absolute clarity over a decade later.
I lean back against my car and enjoy the feel of his big body crowding mine.
“I’ve been busy,” I tell him, but I don’t recognize the soft, sexy voice coming out of my mouth. That voice is lying.
His dark eyes flare before he drops his hand and takes a step back. “You’re not going to be busy forever, Ashlyn.”
“Goodnight, Brandon,” I whisper before I get in the car.
“Be safe, Ashlyn.”
* * *
Brandon
“Hey, man. Am I dead?”
Watty’s voice drags me back from the fucked up dream I was having. I force my eyes open and sit up in the hard-ass chair I’ve been in since sometime around midnight. They’ve got him hooked up to monitors and IVs. A brace is wrapped around his neck, and his stupid joke can’t hide the fear in his eyes. “Hey, you’re awake. Let me go get a nurse.”
“Not yet. How long have I been here, brother?”
I check my phone for the time. “It’s been about six hours. How ya feelin’?”
“I’m pretty sure I’m moving my toes.” Then he slowly waves his hands in front of his face. “And I can move my hands, all five of them, so that’s fucking good, right?”
I lean over the bed and gently smack his hand away from his face. “Dude. You’re on the good drugs. I’m surprised you’re only seeing five hands instead of ten.”
“Did we win?” He brings his hands down to touch the brace wrapped around his neck and winces.
“Yeah, man. We won,” I tell him, hiding the emotion clogging my voice.
There were a few minutes where he wasn’t moving and none of us knew what was happening. You never want to think the worst on the field. Football is a game for warriors. We get beat and bruised. Our bodies take trauma after trauma, week after week. But you always think the big hits aren’t going to happen to you. That you’re going to be fine. Then you see your teammate land on his head, lying on the ground with his neck at an unnatural angle andfuck, it puts everything in perspective.
“Did the girls go wild?” he asks.
“Yeah. Your mom did. She’s gonna be here tomorrow.Well,later today.”
“Shit. Mymom’scomin’?”
“Yeah. Scarlet talked to her last night. Coach and some of the guys were here until they set you up in a room. I promised I’d text when you woke up.”
Watty closes his eyes and leans his head back against the pillow. “I’m not gonna play another down of football, am I, Dix?”
“I don’t know, Watty.” I stand to get the nurse. “But you never dropped the ball.”
* * *
They release Watkins a few hours later, and that’s how I find myself standing next to Declan at the back of a press conference that afternoon while my best friend announces his retirement from football. He was lucky. He herniated a disk in his neck and has surgery scheduled next week for a single level cervical fusion.
He was right this morning when he said he’ll never play another down of football, but he walked in here on two feet without any help. Considering where we were last night, I’ll take that as a win.
It really hit things home for me, and I know I made the right decision about retiring after this season. It’s time.
I need to start thinking about my life after ball.
