Page 65 of Game On

Twice now he’d called Troy by his name. She only wondered if he realized it was too late.

Troy shoved his glasses against his nose defiantly as he glared up at his brother. “I don’t need you.” Leaving his duffel beside the car, he stormed up the steps to grab the large envelope Roscoe had left on one of the tables. “How many schools did you contact?” he asked the lawyer.

“Ten or eleven,” Roscoe answered, his voice sounding amused.

“Are any of them that boarding school in Southern California? You know the one like on that TV show?”

Roscoe was grinning widely now as he slowly rocked the chair back and forth. “No, I didn’t check that far away.”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Shane complained.

“I’ve got lots of money, though, right?” Troy didn’t bother with Shane, instead directing his questions at Roscoe.

“Tons,” Roscoe said, clearly enjoying the boy’s tactics.

“Good.” Troy flashed him a smirk. “Then I really shouldn’t need to have anything more to do with you,” he said, turning to Shane. “After all, I can do and be whatever I want, right?”

Shane’s stance hardened a bit, but he didn’t argue with Troy. Offering up a slight nod, he watched silently as Troy sauntered back down the stairs and loaded his duffel in the backseat of the car. “Good, I’ll be sure and let you know where I land,” Troy said with a cheeky grin.

Which meant Carly was obviously going to have to do something with him. Sighing, she watched as Troy gallantly loaded her bag into the car next to his. Roscoe chuckled on the porch as Shane stood on the steps, arms crossed and hands tucked under his armpits. That errant lock of hair blew in the slight breeze, but otherwise his face was expressionless.

“I’ll take him to the beach. Lisa may be able to talk some sense into him,” she said softly.

“Fine,” was all he said. Troy reached down to wrap his arms around Beckett’s big head as Carly made her way to the driver’s side of the car.

“Troy,” Shane called before they got in the car. Carly flinched at the sound of Troy’s name coming off Shane’s lips. Striding down the steps, Shane stopped beside Beckett.

“Your parents would want you to go to boarding school.” His voice was quiet as he looked at his brother. “Your mom and dad didn’t really intend for you to be left with someone like me. Hell, they didn’t even like me. I’d be a horrible influence on you. They didn’t know what they were doing.”

Troy looked at him a moment before straightening his shoulders and pushing up his glasses again. “No. They didn’t know what they were doing. They thought that all that stuff about you being the Devil of the NFL was just an act, a way to get attention. Mom always said that you just needed to be shown love before you could give it. Dad, our dad, always said he was so proud of you. Because you’d made something out of yourself in spite of his attempts to screw your life up.”

Tears welled up in Carly’s eyes, but Shane’s face was like granite as Troy continued. “He always used to pray that one day you’d be able to forgive him for abandoning you. That you’d learn to understand that he was just a mixed-up kid himself. We celebrated your birthday every year and Dad kept a scrapbook with every article he could find about you. So yeah, you’re right. They didn’t know what they were doing. And I’m glad they’ll never know the real you.” With a pat on Beckett’s head, he climbed into the car.

Carly stood frozen, looking over the roof of the car at Shane’s emotionless face. Say something, she begged him. Instead, the silence surrounding them was deafening. The ache in her heart grew more severe as the gist of Troy’s words sunk in. It took everything she had not to go to Shane and offer him comfort. Instead, with limbs so shaky she wasn’t sure she could stand, she got behind the wheel and started up the car. Beckett whined as the car started to pull away.

“Don’t forget to feed the dog,” Troy yelled from the open passenger window. When he turned to face forward again, tears were streaming down his face. “Butthead.”

Shane wasn’t sure how long he stood there. He wasn’t even sure if his heart was still beating. He couldn’t seem to feel anything. Beckett turned his head to look at him, a sorrowful look in his big brown eyes. After a moment, he lay down in the gravel drive, plopping his head on his paws with a deep sigh. Breathing deeply himself, Shane forced his feet to move him back up the steps as the sounds of Carly’s tires on the gravel faded away. Christ, he needed a drink. Several, in fact.

Roscoe sat rocking in the wooden rocker Shane’s grandfather had made for his grandmother.

“What do you think is so goddamned funny?” Shane asked as he reached the shade of the porch.

“Oh, I’m just marveling at genetics. I mean, it fascinates me that the two of you could grow up in completely different ways, yet still have personalities so similar.” Roscoe chuckled. “That boy definitely has a set of Devlin balls.”

With a snarl at his agent, Shane pushed through the screen doors, headed for the liquor cabinet. Digging in the back, he pulled out a dusty bottle of Scotch.

“Hey,” Roscoe said from behind him. “I thought we weren’t going to open that until you won the Super Bowl?”

“According to you, that’s never going to happen,” Shane said as he twisted off the cap and splashed a liberal amount into a glass.

“Devlin, don’t be an asshole,” Roscoe said, taking a seat on the sofa. “You pay me to watch your back. You know as well as I do a fling with the coach’s sister-in-law is not the best idea if you want to make the team. Especially a team as morally out there as the Blaze. You say you wanna play football, break your father’s records, and win a Super Bowl. You can’t do that while messing around with the princess of the tabloids.”

“Do you really want me to hit you?” Shane’s voice resonated through the open room.

Roscoe laughed. “Dude, I’m feeling a little sorry for you right now, so I might let you have the first punch.”

Before Shane could reach him, Tiffany hissed at them from the balcony above.

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