Page 72 of The Check Down

He answers on the third ring.

“Racy Lacey. What’s shakin’ in the middle of a Thursday?”

“Dell.” I greet my friend and former teammate. “God, it’s good to hear your voice. You got a few minutes?”

“You caught me in the middle of my lunch break, but you know I’d make time for you regardless. You’re having a heck of a season. How’s Memphis treatin’ ya?”

“It’s great,” I gush a little, knowing this man gets it. “Love having my family here for every game. Couldn’t ask for a better organization or coaching staff.” Minus one Cockburn, but I’m not wasting time on him. “How’re things with you and the hellcat?”

He chuckles. “Can’t complain. She’s something else.”

The unmistakable happiness in his voice makes me smile. Cordell and his girlfriend, Mel—or “hellcat,” because she’s a feisty thing—have been dating for a couple of months. Thank fuck. It took them far too long to figure out their will-they-or-won’t-they shit. I had a front-row seat for their shenanigans this summer when he talked my depressed ass into helping him run his high school’s football camp. After five minutes in the company of the two of them, it was clear they had undeniable chemistry, even though they fought it like hell—especially Mel.

“That she is. Happy for y’all, Dell.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“The reason I’m calling is kinda related, I guess. You remember what Big Mike used to preach to us about women?”

Another laugh crackles over the line. “Big Mike Grimstead. I haven’t thought about him in a minute.”

The guy was a veteran offensive tackle for the Tors when Cordell and I played together. He was a legend, a guy every player on the team looked up to, and he often shared nuggets of wisdom in his big, booming voice.

Cordell’s sigh is wistful. “Sure haven’t forgotten his advice, though. Especially about women.” He lowers his already deep voice to imitate Big Mike’s bass. “Boys, here’s how you know she’s the one…when she’s your very best friend…”

“But you also want to fuck her six ways to Sunday,” I finish. Our laughter is low and nostalgic. Then I clear my throat. “Not to be too nosy, but…is that who Mel is for you?”

His answer comes with zero hesitation. “Yeah. Definitely.”

I rough a hand down my face, scratching at my beard. There’s a hushed timbre to my voice when I admit the truth to my friend of over a decade. “I think I’ve found her.”

He’s silent for a beat. But there’s no denying the smile in his voice when he says, “Someone’s managed to tame Racy Lacey? I wanna hear all about her. She’s gotta be a one-in-a-million kind of girl.”

“Dell, she’s more like a once-in-a-lifetime kind of woman.” With a smile, I sink into the cushions, prop my feet on the coffee table, and tell my buddy about the woman who’s captured my heart.

“No tour of Memphis Magic would be complete without a stop here.”

Brynn peers through the windshield, then cuts her eyes over and chews on the corner of her bottom lip.

“Hey.” I slip my hand beneath the fall of her thick hair and give her neck a gentle squeeze. “He’s not here today. I checked. And my sources are reliable.”

She bobs her head, but she doesn’t release her lip.

“We’re going to run into him eventually, you know.”

She sighs. “I know we will—”

“But you don’t want it to be today.”

Eyes softening, she leans into my touch. “I also don’t want to be scared to come here. This place is special to you.”

My left hand clenches the steering wheel. I haven’t seen the texts the jackass sent her, didn’t want to push her to share them, but if she’s this worried about facing him, they must’ve been rough.

I lean across the truck for a kiss. “C’mon, professor. There’s someone important waiting for us.”

At the front grill of the truck, we thread our fingers together. I can’t go more than a couple of minutes without touching her now that we’ve left thestrictly friendszone.

We enter the stadium through the entrance I use every week. And waiting right where he said he’d be, at the end of the corridor, is the stadium staff’s most devoted, tenured employee.

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