Page 3 of The Throwback

“I’m great,” I reply on a breath, doing everything I can to keep from getting too emotional. I’m not even sure why I am, but seeing her after so long just makes me feel like I’m home. I was only twelve when I lost everything that was important to me, and Bailey was a part of that. I know I’ll never get my parents back, but having her right here is definitely eliciting memories of a time when I had no clue what real loneliness felt like. “What are you doing here?”

She pulls away but keeps her hands on my forearms, which are still loosely wrapped around her. I don’t know why, but letting go doesn’t feel right, so I’m going to keep the connection as long as I can. With any other person, this would feel weird. But not with her.Even when we were kids, Bailey was always very physically affectionate. It wasn’t abnormal for her to give me a random hug or hold my hand while we were playing on the beach. As a little boy, I probably should’ve thought it was gross, but I never did. Up until that very last summer, I never even saw her as anything more than a best friend—someone I could tell anything to and know she wouldn’t judge. I liked the relationship we had, so if she wanted to be close to me, I welcomed it. She was always a comfort to me.

Then I had to go through the hardest time of my life without her.

“I know it sounds crazy, but I’m actually working for one of the wives of a Boston Blizzard player for the entire week.” She steps out of my embrace, reaching back to grip the handle of her rolling suitcase. “I’m an esthetician, and she needs someone to take care of her skincare and makeup while she’s here in Tampa.”

My eyes go wide at the mention of my team. Just as I go to open my mouth to ask who, a quiet ding fills the air and the elevator doors slide open. We both look over to see we’ve arrived on our floor. I know that four full levels of this hotel have been blocked off for the Blizzard and their family members, but it’s still a coincidence that the person she’s here for is staying on the same one as I am. I can’t help but think that fate has brought us back together.

I step aside, extending my arm out so she can walk ahead of me before following her into the empty hallway. “Who are you here to see?” I ask.

She scrunches her nose, shaking her head. “Hername is Dia. Her husband is playing in the Super Bowl. I’m not really into football, but I guess he’s a pretty big deal. Are you a fan?”

I chuckle. The last time she saw me, I’d never even touched a football aside from the occasional game of catch with my dad. It wasn’t until I moved to Texas after my parents died that I joined the local Pop Warner team. I struggled with a lot of anger during the beginning stages of grief, and since my uncle was the town’s high school coach, he thought putting on a helmet and hitting some kids might help me work through some of it. He was right. From the very first play, it became a part of me.

“Dia Davis?” I ask.

Her brows bunch in confusion. “How did you know that?”

“Everybody knows Dia,” I reply on a laugh. “She’s the queen of the Blizzard wives. What room?”

She looks down at the paper in her hand, then glances up at me with skepticism written all over her face. “I probably shouldn’t be telling you the location of my client. I’m going to get in trouble for sharing sensitive information.”

I roll my eyes playfully, swiping the pink Post-It from her hand. Her jaw drops in surprise, and she reaches out to take it back, but I turn my body away so I can read it. She yanks on the sleeve of my t-shirt, grunting as she tries to move me. Suddenly, it’s like we’re kids again, and I’m taunting her just to get a reaction.

“Jett James, you haven’t changed one bit,” she says,pulling at my arm. “Still such a grabby little asshole.” Her fingertips dig into the heated skin of my bicep, and I flex, making the muscle go hard under her touch. She looks up, her wide green eyes meeting mine.

“I’ve changed a little bit,” I say with a cocky smirk. Her cheeks flush as she drops her hands to her hips, waiting for me to return the paper. I do, but only because I already saw the room she’s supposed to be at. Checking the sign on the wall in front of us, I turn left, crooking my finger in an attempt to make her follow. “It’s this way.”

“I swear to God, if you act like some weird fanboy over this girl’s husband, I’ll tell them you followed me up from the lobby and make them call security on you,” she mumbles, making me chuckle again because she has no idea how close to Dalton Davis I actually am. My teammates are my brothers. Other than my aunt, uncle and two cousins, they’re the closest thing to a family I have.

We continue down the hall, stopping in front of the door marked 2211. I should let her be the one to knock, but this is too much fun. Rapping my knuckles against the thick wood three times, I glance back at her and smile as she shakes her head in disapproval.

“I’m getting fired,” she says quietly as the door swings open, and we come face-to-face with my running back. Dalton is shirtless, looking fresh from some form of a workout, with his dark brown hair sticking in every direction as thoughsomebody’sfingers had just been running through it. Faint traces of dark lipstick are smudged across his face and neck, and heclutches a pillow strategically in front of his lower region.

Classic Dalton.Horny fucker.

He clears his throat. “Hey, Kingsley. What’s up, man?”

THREE

BAILEY

Wait,what?

Why is my client’s husband acting like he knows Jett? And why did he call him Kingsley? This whole thing is wildly confusing. Running into him in the elevator was crazy enough, especially after he disappeared from my life for thirteen years. But now we end up on the same floor, and he’s being recognized by Dalton Davis? It’s just eerie. I’m ready to burst with all the questions I’m holding in.

First of all, where has he been, and why didn’t I see him again after he left that day? For six summers, we spent every waking moment together—exploring the beach, building sandcastles and learning everything our adolescent brains could comprehend about one another. I remember sneaking him through my second-story window on more than one occasion after our parents went to bed because we just wanted more time with each other. We’d lie on the floor of my room, staring atthe glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling, sometimes not saying a single word. So, what happened?

One minute, he was telling me he’d see me next year, and the next, their family beach house was for sale. I know it probably had nothing to do with him, and he likely had no way of finding me at that age, but I still felt like every summer that followed had less meaning. As I got older, I’d spend some days on the front porch, hoping he’d just pull into the driveway. My parents decided to sell our vacation home when I was seventeen, even though I begged them not to. I knew it was the only place Jett knew to find me, and once it was gone, there’d be no way I’d ever see him again.

But here we are. Together in a random hotel, just a few hours from where we first met.

I’m broken from my reminiscence when Jett settles a large hand on my lower back. “Bailey here has a meeting with your wife. I was just showing her to your room.” The way he says my name sends butterflies fluttering wildly in my stomach, but I try my best to remain professional. This job pays really well and has the potential to help me create connections that could definitely further my career. I need to be serious about it while I’m here. There will be time to ask him the millions of questions that are plaguing my mind later.

“Oh, yeah,” Dalton says, opening the door all the way and stepping aside for us to enter. “She’s just getting out of the shower. Come on in.” Jett’s hand stays firmly placed on the small of my back as he guides me into the room, following behind as Dalton shuts the door. I’m still baffled by the fact that he knows Dia’shusband. I’m also wondering why he didn’t just bring me to the door and leave, but it’s not like I can turn and tell him to take a hike. I’d look like a crazy person if I did that now—even though, honestly, I know there’s no way I actually would.

“That presser was out of control, wasn’t it?” Dalton asks, plopping down on the queen-sized bed in the room. “Fucking wild that they had us do that shit before we even got settled in. Last year, we got the first night to relax before they started with the media training and interviews.”

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