Page 41 of The Brotherly Shove

I can think of worse ways to spend a morning.

Careful not to move too much and disturb Breaker, I reach over to my nightstand to unplug my phone so that I can entertain myself with some mindless doom scrolling while I wait. My phone is perpetually on Do Not Disturb so that save for a few notifications—like anything from my parents or Breaker—I’m not bombarded with endless attempts at communication all day long. Because of that, my phone screen is blissfully free of any pesky little red icons.

Still, I know the notifications are there, hidden behind my safe wall, so I go to my email to see if I've missed anything important. There's nothing but a few sent over from my agent yesterday afternoon.

Are you interested in a charity youth game in January?

Hell yes.

Want to do an ad spot for laundry detergent?

Not really, but a paycheck is a paycheck, so I guess so.

Digitally sign these and get them back to me ASAP. That means now, Griffith.

Geez. I know the dude gets 15% off of my endorsement deals, but he can take a chill pill. He's acting like I've never gotten something back to him on time. Newsflash, I like to get paid, too.

I open the document and scribble my signature a few times before shooting the email back to him with a passive aggressive 'thumbs up' emoji, then I check my texts.

Two from my group chat with my parents, both of them congratulating me on last night's win. One from Buckner, wondering where I ran off to last night. One from Coach informing me that the League will be fining me for skipping press. Stupid rule, but whatever. It was worth it.

Just as I'm about to switch over to Instagram, a new text comes through, this time from my old QB in Knoxville.

Dean:Griffith! I'm in SF for a few days to visit my sister. If you have time, wanna grab a bite or something while I'm around?

I had planned to spend the whole day in bed with Breaker, watching movies and cuddling and hopefully making each other feel good, but I would really like to see Dean. He's such a good guy, he really took me under his wing last season and helped with my introduction into the league. I haven't seen him since the spring, so it would be nice to catch up

Lennon:I'm free today if you want to grab lunch.

Dean:Cool. Sis and I were gonna hit up this place in the Mission District. You down for Mexican?

As if I'm evernotdown for Mexican.

Lennon:Definitely. Is it cool if I bring a friend?

Dean:The more people to distract my sister from making a scene, the merrier. 1 o'clock.

He sends me an address and I plug it into the maps app to check the driving time. It'll take about forty-five minutes, and it'sonly 9:34 am, which means I have plenty of time to soak up my sleeping snuggle bug before it's time to get ready.

On that note, I set my phone down, wrap my arms around Breaker, and nuzzle my face into the top of his head.

"Are you sure I look okay?" Breaker asks as he smooths his hands down over his navy blue henley for probably the thousandth time since he put it on an hour ago. He's adorable when he's nervous.

"You look amazing, B. I already told you, that shirt does amazing things for your pecs," I tell him as we walk from the corner where our Uber dropped us off towards La Taqueria—a Mexican restaurant that's known for it's Mission style burritos. I haven't been here yet, but I plan on coming here the moment the season is over when I don't have a team of trainers and dieticians breathing down my neck and inhaling a behemoth of a burrito the size of my forearm.

Maybe two.

I let myself indulge a little further into my future fantasy. By that point, I'll also be able to hold Breaker's hand while we walk down the street, the way I'm itching to now.

But alas, I am in a hell of my own making for the greater good of the team and Breaker's young career, so instead we walk with enough room for Jesus between us towards the front door of the restaurant. He at least lets me open the door for him, which scratches the monkey, masculine part of my brain that say 'provide, provide, provide' whenever Breaker is around.

"I don't think Dean McKenna will have time to notice my pecs when he's too busy being one of the greatest of all time," hemutters under his breath while I look around the small room. It's not hard to miss the tall, bulky man sitting in the corner with a baseball cap low over his brows, even without the small woman bouncing and waving like an inflatable air dancer outside of a car dealership. I wave back and nudge Breaker along to the other side of the restaurant to meet my friends.

"Lennon!" Kira squeals, jumping out of her seat and straight on to my chest, looping her arms around my neck and her legs around my waist with ease. The core strength on this woman is phenomenal. She squeezes me tight like I'm an old friend before slamming a kiss into my cheek.

"Hello to you, too, Kira," I say as I carefully set her back down to the ground. I reach out and give Dean a gruff handshake that he returns with a slap on my back.

I point a thumb at Breaker, who is standing awkwardly next to me with his hands behind his back.

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