Page 100 of Bull Rush

“Good,” I lie. I can’t drag Cooper into any of this.

“Well, I’m glad you’re good because I’ve got even better news. Well, actually, that’s fucked up… I shouldn’t say that, but it’s good for you. We’ve got a DE position open. One of the guys just found out he’s out for the season, and the rookie was dismissed for misconduct. They’re looking for someone, and they’re willing to call you back to the practice squad if you think you can get into shape. It’ll give you a chance to compete for a starting spot again. Coach Undergrove is planning to call you.”

My heart skips a few beats at that news. The idea of being away from the death and destruction around here. Not having to be part of whatever game Grant and Levi are playing. Running down a field on a Sunday autumn afternoon. I don’t hate the idea, but it feels too good to be true.

“I thought they weren’t sure if I’d be a liability.”

“I’ve been talking you up. So has Quentin, and you know he’s got a lot of sway here. Plus, the PR team isn’t worried. You’re a hero around here, and they’d just be grateful to have someone healthy and formidable out on the field, you know?”

“Wow. I just… didn’t think it was a real possibility. I thought you were just trying to give me some hope to get through things. I’m not sure what to say.”

“Do you want to come back?”

“I do, but I don’t want to leave Haze. I can’t go through that again. Neither can she.”

“I can understand that.” I can hear the disappointment in Cooper’s tone, but his love for Bea has made him see the world differently too. “Well… talk it over with her and let me know? I’ll let Coach know you’re thinking about it. Just… think quickly? They’ll want to move in the next day or two.

“Of course,” I say, looking out the truck window to see Haze making her way to the front door of the house from the inn.

“All right. Talk with you soon then. Later.”

“Later, man.”

We hang up, and I take a deep breath. I have no idea how to break this idea to Haze—if I even should. I don’t want to puteverything we’ve been building the last few months into jeopardy by making her think I’d leave her again. But with everything that’s happened here, I have to wonder if she’d reconsider it. If we could let someone else run the place for a few months a year while I played and come back here in the offseason. Maybe it could be the best of both worlds for us.

By the timeI walk inside, I’ve worked myself up to the idea of telling her. I’ll caveat it by telling her nothing would make me leave her, and she has the final say in the decision we make. It’s our future, not just mine anymore, and I can’t imagine her not at my side, even if it means I get to play again. I know if I explain it that way, she’ll understand. She knows I love football the same way she loves the inn.

When I find her in the dining room, though, she’s reading a piece of paper from the mail and startles when she sees me. I hope it’s not another bill. They’ve been piling up lately, and there’ll only be more in the future as we work to rebuild the stables and hire more staff. That might have to be part of my pitch for playing again.

“Hey, sugar. How was your day?”

“Not terrible. Yours? Your brothers pull you in deeper?” She’s agreed I need to sort things out with them and stay close to what’s going on. But she’s not thrilled it means I’m getting dragged deeper into the criminal underbelly of their business.

“Not terrible. I managed to mostly observe. I thought one of their couriers recognized me.”

“I see.” She frowns as she looks at me, and I’m worried she can tell how anxious I am about Cooper’s news.

“I need to tell you something,” I admit.

“Me too.”

“Can I go first?”

“Um… I think I need to.” Her lower lip wavers, and her eyes look down at the paper. “But you may not want to speak to me after I show you this.”

“Sugar, there’s nothing you could do that would make me not want to speak to you.”

She turns the piece of paper around silently, and I skim the words. My heart stops, and my world bottoms out.

It’s a final decree of divorce, signed and sealed by a judge.

FIFTY

Hazel

The lookon his face makes me feel like I can’t breathe. It’s agony and fury all intertwined, and I see the way his hand shakes as he sets the paper down.

“I can explain.” I try not to cry. I don’t need to cry. We could fix this, easily.

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