Page 35 of Tight End

She finally looks at me, her cheeks darkened, her eyes flitting around my face, finally landing on my lips. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“No problem. Let me brush my teeth and the room is yours. Your bags are on the bed.” I’m already on the move, walking past her when she stops me.

“We’re both adults. It’s fine. Like you said, it’s only one night.”

One night.

One night of pure fucking torture.

I don’t know what I was thinking.

Newsflash—I wasn’t.

I make sure to leave my door open in case Oliver gets up in the middle of the night, and I spend the next several minutes berating myself as I get ready for bed. I list out all the reasons this won’t work. I look at a few old pictures of Caitlin, and I remind myself to man up, to take charge of my own thoughts and focus.

Except, when June walks out of my bathroom in a pair of purple shorts that are borderline scandalous and a matching silk tank top, all I can focus on is her.

My mouth goes dry, and there’s a good chance Iswallowed my tongue. I’d love to say something. Anything. But I can’t.

Her fingers toy with the hemline as she makes her way to the bed. “These were the only pajamas they had that weren’t pants. I get hot when I sleep.”

I’m hot right now, my dick already hardening.

Motherfucker. She’s going to test my sanity. My strength. My resolve. Basically, everything I have.

She’s cautious as she lifts the sheets and slides in next to me. I’m gritting my teeth, waiting for her leg to glide against mine, her hand to run up my side, something, but it never comes. I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed as she shifts to lie on her back, likely staring up at the ceiling like I am.

An awkward silence settles over us, blanketing us—or at least me—with an oppressive weight.

I don’t know what to do or what to say. Is this where we make small talk? Do I ask her about herself? Her family? Do I try to get to know her?

Or do I roll over and try to get the sleep I’m sure I’ll need for the field tomorrow.

June moves her legs, the rustling of the sheets cutting through the air. And she laughs. “Well, this is a little ... it’s something. You know, we don’t really know much about each other. Maybe we should ask each other a few questions. Break the ice.”

I nod despite the fact she can’t see me. “Sure.”

“So, uh, football player, huh? Is that what you always wanted to do?”

I heave a breath, threading my fingers together, and rest them on my stomach. I’m not entirely sure how much I want to divulge about my past, but she’s right, we should get toknow each other, and nothing kills a boner faster than my past. “It’s what I was good at, even as a kid. I was always better, faster, more skilled. I played varsity as a freshman and went to a Division I in Texas on a full-ride scholarship. Nothing else ever clicked like football. Guess it’s in my blood.”

She makes a humming noise in the back of her throat. “Did your dad play?”

I don’t answer right away, not sure I can. I let her question hang between us for several seconds. My past is always tricky, talking about my dad even more so. There aren’t many people who know the story and fewer who know who he is. I think there might be only five of us. Me, Dean, our moms, and Gunner. And with the exception of my mom, none of them know about Caitlin.

I’m where secrets go to die.

But perhaps this one needs to be shared. Whether I like it or not, he’s Oliver’s grandfather, and while he’ll never meet him, June has a right to know who he is.

“Uh, yeah ... he was pretty big when he played. Retired about twenty years ago.”

“That must’ve been cool, having him teach you.”

I freeze for a beat, blowing out a breath, my jaw clenching, and I force it to relax. “He wasn’t involved in my life.”

“Oh shit. Shoot.” She rolls over and places a hand on top of mine. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve accepted who he is.” I’m quick to respond, moving to my side to face her. I can’t make out any of her features, but having her here is comforting. “He was married, had been for years, and cheated on his wife when he was on the road. Me and my half brother Dean—you’ll get to meet him soon—were products of those affairs. Our moms gotalong and made sure Dean and I knew each other and were somewhat close until he left for college. Our dad sent our moms child support, hush money, but that was it. He had his wife and his own kids.”

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