Page 72 of Only Between Us

Who the hell made this woman feel like she was anything remotely close to a bother? She’s the most self-sufficient person I know.

“You will call me when you’re back on land, and I will come get you. Don’t argue with me on that.” I take her by the shoulders and turn her toward the boat. “I’ll see you tonight, Captain.”

Chapter23Brooks

“Brooks, have you seen this?”

Summer’s French braids sway as she hurries across the rehab center with a copy ofAround the League, a national sports publication, tucked under an arm and her phone in her hand. I don’t know which of the two thethisin question is coming from, but the panic is plain on her face and plentiful enough to raise my blood pressure. The rehab center, adjacent to the UOB gym facility, is empty but for us this early in the morning, dotted with various training equipment and plush tables like the ones I’m perched on.

Parker’s hands pause on my knee, which he’s been obsessively tweaking since the injury. “No. Nope.” He shakes his head. “Take whatever bullshit you’ve uncovered away from here, Prescott. We’re dealing with enough.”

I tend to agree with him. Summer grimaces in apology as she reaches us, handing me her phone. “I can’t believe Josh hasn’t been calling you. There’s… a video.”

The screen is open to theAll-Starswebsite, the same gossip site that anointed me Siena’s boyfriend just a month ago. “Are Cece Pippen and Brooks Attwood bringing a new meaning to the wordsplay fake?This video suggests they might be,” I read out, dread prickling at me as I hit play on the video in question. Parker rises to have a look.

It’s me and Siena, back at the alumni game. Rather, us on the jumbotron, half of which shows me jogging down the field after a touchdown, grinning at her. While she sits in the stands in my number eleven jersey, arms and legs crossed. Looking annoyed as all hell as the crowd around her celebrates. Conveniently, the video cuts off before I hauled her onto the field. Before she kissed me.

I know she had trouble faking it in those early days, but that’s a look that plainly saysI can’t fucking stand you.

“Josh is going to kill me.” I scroll through the article speculating about the validity of our relationship. The comments section seems divided between those accusing us of faking it, and those wondering what I must’ve done to end up in the doghouse that night. “Why is this coming outnow? It’s been a month since.”

I scroll back up. The video is being credited to an anonymous source. Between this, the knee, and the resurfaced back-alley photos that started all this, I seem to be suffering from a bad case of karmic retribution. Something—or someone—out there doesn’t want me playing again. Seems to be doing whatever they can to prevent it.

“It’s not too bad, is it?” Parker tosses me the black fabric knee brace I’ve started wearing during our sessions. “You’ve been seen since, looking a lot more… together.”

“It’s ‘not too bad’ that the only reason the Rebels think I’ve got my act together is being called into question?” I consider calling Josh myself, but leave my phone buried in my bag. It’s only a matter of time before he starts losing it, and I’ll take the breather while I can.

Parker winces. “Right. It’s bad.”

I pull on the brace and test my knee by bouncing on the balls of my feet. Parker’s really worked his magic on it. It’ll be good as new by the time I hit the Rebels training camp. Assuming I get an invite.

Which, with this fresh hell I’ve just been dealt…

“At the risk of giving Josh a run for his money as the bearer of bad news,” Summer says slowly, flipping open her copy ofAround the League.

I groan. “You’re kidding, right?”

“They’ve ranked all the NFL’s unrestricted free agents by position and likelihood of starting the season on a roster.” Parker joins her up on the treatment table where she’s sitting and flicks the end of her French braid out of the way to get a better look at the magazine in her hands.

“And?”

“You’re number three among receivers.”

I shut my eyes. “Doug McDaniels is number one?”

“I’m sorry. They’re predicting he’ll go to the Rebels.”

Fucker.Fucker.

“Don’t sweat it, man. These lists are bullshit.” Parker plucks the magazine from Summer’s hands and tosses it away.

“It’s not bullshit. Josh is in touch with their general manager every day, trying to suss them out. It sounds like they’re fifty-fifty between us, and that was without people wondering whether I’m injured, or faking a relationship just to get signed. Josh thinks there’s a chance that we’ll both be invited to training camp, which would be…”

Spending time with my ex’s affair partner, while the woman in question sits in the stands watching?

Hell. It would be hell.

A phone chimes from somewhere in this room, loud over the sounds of weights hitting the black rubber floor and grunts from beefy dudes out in the gym. It grates on me, but I suck a breath into my lungs, trying to unwind the tension in my shoulders. “I hate that any part of this comes down to anything I do off the field.”

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