CHAPTER ONE
Trevon Marks was a big man. Not just tall, not just wide. He was big everywhere. A center for the New Orleans Fire, he stood six-feet-seven and weighed more than three hundred and twenty pounds. But his body was taking a beating that not many men could tolerate.
Football, in general, was a full-contact, vicious sport. But lately it seemed as though Trevon was taking more hits, harder hits, than he had in his entire career. Most of them were clean hits, but every now and then, he’d take one that was dirty, and he was certain it was intended to be dirty.
What Trevon didn’t know was the owner of his team was paying other players to hurt members of her team. Combine that with the fact that the practice field, clubhouse, team office building, and stadium were all on a foundation of chemicals, filled with asbestos. They were all slowly dying.
When his best friend and quarterback allegedly killed himself, he went to the Gray Wolf team for help. He never dreamed that it would begin a world of change for him. A newworld that he had no clue existed before the day he stepped foot on their property.
It was a strange world that he never had reason to think about before. Now, he was right in the middle of it and loving every moment.
Having no desire to carry a weapon, he volunteered to help with gardening, landscaping, or work in the bike shop. Given a cottage like the rest of the men, Trevon had truly found himself a home and a family.
For the team, it was like having another giant teddy bear. He was soft-spoken, quick to laugh, slow to anger, and incredibly smart. His true love was the gardening and horticulture at Belle Fleur. It was something easy to fall in love with, given the expanse of their gardens and crops. And of course, it was always interesting to watch as people discovered plants they never knew existed.
Being raised primarily by his grandmother, she taught him the love of digging in the dirt and growing something that could actually sustain you and your family. He loved planting corn and tomatoes or roses and camellias. It was all wonderful to him.
But where Trevon wasn’t so skilled or lucky was in the love department. He’d had several girlfriends over the years, none of whom wanted anything other than to be the girlfriend or wife of a football player. It seemed he was terrible at reading women and even worse, didn’t care to any longer.
His solution to that was simple. Don’t date.
The outcome was loneliness.
He loved being at Belle Fleur, loved being part of the team, but he was lonely when he looked around and saw all the happy couples and families. There was a heaviness in his heartthat he’d never experienced before. A longing in his gut that made him want to do something he felt certain he shouldn’t.
He would spend time with Chipper, Teddy, David, or Hawke. The confirmed bachelors of the team were always willing to meet up and play a game of cards or chess. Sometimes, they’d go to The Well and have a beer and laugh for a few hours.
Yet, late at night, when the sun had long since gone down and the frogs were singing to the gators and the gators were singing to the animals on the island, Trevon would sit on his massive front porch swing thinking about family.
He would watch as his neighbors had their family time or sat together at dinner and feel the stab of loneliness inside of him. He’d believed that he was beyond that. He was happy being single. And alone.
He was not.
“Baby? Baby, are you okay?” asked Irene.
“Oh, yes, sorry, Mama Irene. I was just thinking about how beautiful and fragrant the hyacinth is,” he said, touching the petals with his massive fingertips. Irene looked at him with suspicion and nodded.
“Yes, yes, they are. The gardens are a wonderful place for a man or woman to think. The scents, the colors, all of it makes us just settle in for a nice talk with our guardian angel or God or whoever you want to speak with. Plants have a way of setting us all right. Making us appreciate what’s around us. It’s always a true miracle to me that they bloom, die, and return to life again. This, these gardens, are my favorite place in the whole world to be.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled. “Sometimes, early in the morning, I come out here and talk to my granny. She was awonderful woman, and she taught me all about gardens. I wish you could’ve met her. You remind me of her.”
“I’ll bet she’d be proud of the man that you are now,” smiled Irene. “I know that I am. You made some difficult decisions in your life that weren’t just about you, they were about helping your friends, your team, and that shows me what kind of person you are.”
“You always seem to know the right things to say,” he grinned. Irene laughed.
“Pfft! Don’t tell my children that. I think they think I don’t know the right thing to say. It’s really about them not listenin’. You know what I mean?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he chuckled, “but I think they’re listening. You’re a hard woman to not hear. Oh, I don’t mean you’re loud. I just mean your wisdom somehow gets into your head and doesn’t leave.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” she smiled, nodding at him.
“Was your mama wise like that?” he asked. Irene stilled for a moment, sitting back on her padded gardening stool.
“No. No, my mama found it hard to manage me. As you can imagine, I was a different kind of girl. She didn’t understand me, and she definitely didn’t understand why I fell in love with Matthew.”
“But he’s such a good man,” said Trevon. “I’ve never met a man more kind, caring, heck, I’d even say divine.” Irene raised her brows and smiled.
“Yes. Divine is a good word for him. My grandmother understood me better. She knew that sometimes you’re given gifts that can’t be explained. Mine, well, one of mine, was talking to ghosts.”