Page 22 of The Brotherly Shove

It just proves what I've always known; when Breaker and I connect, magic happens.

And of course, there's the thrill of the hugs I get from him every time we successfully execute the play. They might be one-armed man hugs that barely count because of all the padding from our protective gear between us, but it's the closest I get to feeling like the old us again.

"Fuck," I say, running a hand over my beard as I stare up at the castle on the sea. "I thought I was rolling in the dough when I got my first paycheck in the pros. This is…Jesus. This is straight up 'fuck you' money. Do you think I'm underdressed?" I'm suddenly hyper aware of hownot fancymy chinos and dark blue button up are. Breaker at least had the decency to throw on a sports jacket. Fuck. I look like a slob. The person who cleans the toilets here is probably dressed fancier than I am right now.

"You look great, Len, relax. It's just a house. He's just a guy," he says, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. The heat of his palm mixed with the way his voice goes soft when he calls me Len both helps to relax me and causes the knot in my stomach to wind tighter. Goosebumps flare up all over my body, and I'm thankful for the fabric of my shirt that keeps his bare skin from touching mine. There's no hiding the way my traitorous body reacts when Breaker touches me.

For a second I think that he must feel the sparks too, but he quickly pulls his hand away and tucks it into his pocket. The air around us grows thick with awkward tension almost immediately.

"That's easy for you to say," I manage to choke out "You've actually had a conversation with the man."

"I have, and he's chill. It's gonna be casual. C'mon dude, you can't just stand out here and stare at the house like a creep all night. Let's go."

I swallow the lump in my throat and follow him up the driveway and into the wide open front doors, willing myself the entire way to not break into a nervous sweat.

As soon as we pass through the entryway, I expect to be met with butlers in tuxedos carrying champagne and caviar on silver platters, but there seems to be none of that. There's not even someone here to greet us. Not that Ineedto be greeted, I just thought there would be more formality to an event at a billionaire's mansion than there seems to be. In fact, this is nothing like what I imagined. I was picturing a 'Kim and Kanye's creepy ass white void' situation, but that's not the case at all.

There's a coat rack by the entryway, jackets and handbags slung haphazardly over it and a pile of tiny shoes littered around the bottom. The walls of the long hallway are adorned with kooky, brightly colored pieces of art mixed in with framed pieces of construction paper that seem to be covered in the scribblesof children. There's also a scattering of personal photographs sprinkled in. Wedding pictures, vacations, family portraits. For a hallway, it's incredibly cozy. It reminds me of my childhood home.

Except, you know. Worth about 50 million dollars more.

We follow the sound of music and people talking into a large space that is probably a living room, given the furniture, but there's a long, wide table smack dab in the middle filled to the brim with all kinds of food. From here I can spot charcuterie, fruits, burgers and buns piled high on platters, and what seems like a hundred different appetizers. My mouth waters when the unmistakable scent of pigs in a blanket with mustard hits my nostrils. People sip out of compostable cups branded with the Redwoods logo, not a single Baccarat champagne flute in sight.

I am fully taken aback when I notice the row of coolers packed with ice and an assortment of beverages lining the walls.

Coolers. Actual plastic coolers—all Redwoods red and gold in color—sitting side by side on the floor.

This doesn't feel like a snooty billionaire's dinner party. Nope, this feels like a neighborhood block party, and I am so here for it.

I do a quick scan of the beverage options, and despite the laid back feel, Adler didn't skimp in the alcohol department. The serve yourself bar is stacked a few rows deep with some really expensive liquor, including a few bottles of Macallan scotch that I know is upwards of three thousand dollars at the store. Even if I had planned on drinking liquor tonight, I'm definitely not fancy enough to brave a glass of that stuff.

I peer down at the coolers to check out the beer options and holy shit, one of those coolers is filled with Coors Light. I don't know why a cooler of Coors Light amongst a sea of craft beers is surprising to me, but I don't mind if I do. I beeline to the side of the room and grab two bottles, assuming that Breaker willwant one too. I hold it out to him when I get back and he takes it, twisting the top and clinking it against mine. He brings the bottle to his lips and his tongue quickly peaks out before his lips make contact with the dark brown lip of the glass, and for just a moment, I imagine what it might feel like if he ran that tongue over my bottom lip, or my ear, or up and down my?—

My increasingly inappropriate thoughts are broken up by the shrieks of two children, running towards Breaker and I at lightning speed. Shit, if they can catch a ball, they'll make a pair of solid wide receivers some day.

"MR. BREAKER!" They yell as they launch themselves at his legs, hugging his calves like he's a life raft they're clinging to.

"Whaddup, littles?" Breaker smiles down at them, then hands his beer over to me, indicating with his eyes that he'd like me to hold it for him. I take it and he gently removes the baby koala bears from his calves and squats down to meet them. He holds both hands up, and the nearly identical little boy and girl high five him. I have no clue how these kids know Breaker, or vice versa, but whatever. I'm just along for the ride.

"Daddy said you were gonna be here! We waited all day to see you!" the boy says, and his sister nods enthusiastically.

"No way! Your dad told me that you two were going to be here.Iwaited all day to seeyou! Where are your twin kittens?" he exclaims, matching their energy.

"Our big cat is babysitting Luna and Bella at our other house," the little girl answers, and Breaker doesn't even skip a beat at this pint sized human casually dropping that she already has more than once house to speak of.

Shit, he's a natural, so damn good with kids. He's gonna make an amazing dad someday.

Great, now I'm picturing Breaker shirtless with a baby sleeping on his chest. I rub the spot on my sternum where my heart has started to ache underneath. That image is just too cute.

"Sorry about that." James Adler half jogs his way over to us from where I hadn't noticed him standing across the room. He's in jeans and a vintage Redwoods tee. All of my fears of being underdressed go right out the window. Even with his casual demeanor, it's unsettling standing so close to him. I'm wider for sure, but the dude is built like a brick wall. I never meet anyone in my same height range, and I think Adler might even have half an inch or so on me. "I had my eyes on the kids but they sprinted over as soon as they saw you, Lawson. I really need to keep them on a leash like little puppies."

The kids start to woof and bark like dogs up at their dad, and I can't stop the laugh that escapes me. They're freaking adorable.

"Ah Griffith, glad you can make it. It's good to finally meet you in a less official capacity." The Head Man In Charge holds out a hand for me to shake, and I awkwardly shuffle both beer bottles into my left hand so that I can take it.

"Double fisting? That's my kind of man." He laughs as he pulls me into a half hug and pats my back.

"That's not something I would normally put past myself, but I like to take it easy during the season. One of these belongs to that guy." I gesture down to where Breaker is squatting, listening intently to the kids rattle on about something or another.

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