My shoulders slump as I crumble completely. "Okay." Before he can respond, I add, "But only for a few minutes. I have plans with Sophie."Actually, the only plans I have are with the bathtub, my bed, and a steaming cup of coffee. But Tyler doesn't need to know that.As we move up the walkway, I take out my key before shoving it in the lock and throwing open the front door. Under normal circumstances, I love coming home. I've spent the last five years renovating and decorating. I have everything exactly the way I want it. From the wooden porch that takes up the entire width of the front and the swing my brother, Noah, helped hang to the tiny backyard with its flower beds and neatly manicured lawn.Tyler closes the door behind us as I set my purse on top of the antique credenza I found at a flea market two years ago and repainted. If memory serves me correctly, I believe Tyler was working that Sunday morning.Once inside the foyer, his attention slides over me again and I shift
I pull my earbuds out as Dylan elbows me in the ribs. I'm breathing hard from our five-mile run. It might be the off-season, but we still workout and train six days a week. Especially those of us who are looking to turn pro. There's only a few more weeks until the NFL Combine at the end of February. It's a four-day event where scouts get a chance to watch prospective players show off their athleticism on the field.There is so much pent-up energy pinging around in my body with all the family shit going on, not to mention the draft, that I could easily run another five miles."Dude, what the hell crawled up your ass? Your aunt flo come to visit or something?"I narrow my eyes and shake my head. Dylan can be such a tool sometimes. Honestly, it surprises me that his girlfriend, Lexi, puts up with him. "Yup, you nailed it. I'm riding the cotton pony."Unable to help himself, he chuckles. "I thought so. You've been in a real shit mood lately."I inhale a deep breath and blow it
In an attempt to turn this conversation away from all the bullshit running rampant through my head, I ask, "You ready for the combine?"For once, the smile fades from his face. "Yup. I've been working my damn ass off."I nod.It's true. Dylan has been working hard. Early morning runs, lifting at the gym, agility training, high protein diet, and no alcohol. The guy couldn't do anything more than he already is. It's just that Dylan injured his shoulder last season and I know it still bothers him. He never says a word about it, but you can tell when he takes a hard hit. A stoic expression will slide over his features, masking the pain. His mentality is that he'd rather play hurt than not play at all.Which I get. But that kind of attitude seems a little shortsighted if you ask me. Then again, what do I know? I've never sustained a long-term injury. I've always played quarterback. I don't take hits like some of these guys do. The way they pummel the shit out of each other o
As I push through the metal door of the house I grew up in, the screen whines on its hinges before slamming shut with a thud. It should have been replaced a couple of years ago. Then again, the same holds true for everything in this place.Before my mother took off, our home looked worn but still well-loved. That's no longer the case. It's gotten a lot worse in the five years since she disappeared. Things that were shabby, now seem unkempt and forlorn.A crushing weight settles on my shoulders as I step foot inside the living room. Even though I don't necessarily want to, I swing by at least once a week to make sure everything is running smoothly and nothing else has fallen to shit in my absence. "Hey, son."The corners of my lips hitch as my gaze settles on my dad. He looks the same as always. Maybe a little rougher around the edges. There are dark smudges under his eyes as if he hasn't been sleeping well, and his complexion is ruddier than normal. I don't miss the beer can
I clear my throat. "I've been giving a lot of thought to the upcoming draft and I think I should enter it this year. There's no point in delaying the inevitable." Even though I don't tack on-because we need the money, the words hang in the air.His brow furrows as if he doesn't understand why I'm bringing this up. "We already talked about this. You need to finish college first and get your degree."My gaze bounces around the interior of our dilapidated house. What I see is all the improvements that could be made if I were to get picked up by a team this spring. It's all but a certainty. I've been scouted since I was a freshman in high school. I red-shirted my freshman year of college, which means I practiced with the team but didn't play in any of the games so I could retain four years of eligibility at the college level. I've only used up two. I could technically stay at Barnett for another two years if I wanted to get more experience under my belt.With Cullum looking to a
"How old are these kids again?"I shrug as we walk down the silent corridor. "Dunno. Second or third grade, I think."We're on the hunt for room twelve."Any idea what we're supposed to talk about for thirty minutes?" The guy walking next to me yawns loudly, barely managing to cover his mouth.I glance at him. He looks like he rolled out of bed ten minutes ago.You're supposed to be representing here, dude. Get with the freaking program.Jack Hillenger is a sophomore running back for the Bulldogs. He's great on the field but flies by the seat of his pants any other time. I'm the opposite. In my experience, shit gets fucked up if you don't go in with a plan. I always have an end game in mind. Half the time, it's the only thing that gets me through all the day-to-day bullshit.An impatient sigh escapes from my lips as I ramble off a few topics. "The importance of athletics and reaching for your dreams. The discipline, dedication, and amount of hard work it takes to be a colle
My memory of her from that night doesn't do her justice. She's a woman who can definitely rock the whole hot teacher vibe. My guess is that more than one of her student's fathers pop wood while sitting across the desk from her at conferences.That night at O'Brien's, she wore something simple like jeans and a sweater. Today she's got on a cream-colored blouse that buttons up the front. The top one has been left undone, exposing a hint of flesh beneath. Even though she's covered up, I can see the soft curve of her breasts as the silky looking blouse molds to her body before getting tucked into a tight-fitting black skirt that hits above her knees. The outfit is topped off with a pair of black heels.Her long, dark hair is piled high on top of her head with a few loose tendrils left to escape down her slender neck.Yup, sexy as hell. I keep an eye on the allotted amount of time we've been given for our presentation. Right around the thirty-minute mark, I wrap things up, knowing
After dropping the kids off at music, I head back to my classroom on legs that feel as if they're made of Jell-O. The entire time I'm walking down the corridor, I'm sending up a little prayer that Liam Garrison will have permanently disappeared from my life the way he should have after the night I spent with him.Holy mother of God.I almost died when he turned around, and my gaze collided with gunmetal gray eyes. A strangled gurgle of laughter escapes from my parted lips as the memory crashes through my brain. For just a fraction of a second, I'd thought that I had-for whatever reason-conjured him up in my mind.All right...not for whatever reason. It's no secret that I've been thinking about him these past three weeks. After the night I spent in his bed, it would be difficult not to.But still, I never thought I'd actually come face to face with him again. And yet, there he was, standing in my classroom. Waiting to speak with my kids.If the wicked gleam filling his gorgeous e