Page 126 of Only Between Us

Spread out over four rows in the stands behind me are women I take for the other partners. I scan them blatantly, trying to figure out which one of them could be Naomi. She’s a brunette, according to the internet digging I did early on. But so are half of them up there, and I can’t remember her face.

I’ve mentally composed about a dozen things I’d love to say to her, knowing I won’t say a single one of them.

I will be the bigger person. Because today is about Brooks.

He’d been gone by the time I woke up this morning, still so cozily bundled up in the comforter that I know he must have tucked me back in before he left.

I find number eleven on the field, but even with his back to me and a helmet on, I know it isn’t Brooks. It’s not even about the man’s height and build. It’s the way he carries himself. He’s got none of thecasual grace Brooks has on a football field, the easy confidence in every movement.

I will never, ever get sick of watching Brooks run after a ball.

It’ll shatter me, slowly rip the soul out of my body, but I know I’ll be watching him long after our relationship ends. That I’ll be glued to my TV for every one of his kickoffs, still as proud of him as I am today.

If caring about Brooks is the easiest thing I’ve ever done, trying to fall out of love with him will be the hardest. But I can’t dwell on that.

If I do, I might do something stupid.

Something I’ve considered more than once over the past couple of weeks, but have refused to indulge. Because asking him to sign with the Tigers would be so utterly selfish.

I spot Brooks with his helmet off, on the turf stretching out his hamstrings. He thrusts his hips in a way I’ve seen several times before, though never with more than eight—maybe closer to nine—inches between our bodies.

I find myself turning to the rows of WAGs in the stands, just to make sure none of them are staring at him in a way they shouldn’t.

Especially nother. Whichever one of them she is.

“Hey.” Brooks approaches the railing at the bottom of the stands and, after I tear my gaze off the other women, I hop down the remaining steps. “You look beautiful.”

I shimmy when I reach him, even though my dress is second-skin tight, not loose enough to flutter cutely around my thighs. Hate to admit it, but I dressed up today with his ex in mind, hoping I hold a candle to her in the looks department.

“And you look like an absolute snack, Attwood.” I reach for him, pushing the hair off his face and taking in the dark circles around his eyes. “You didn’t sleep.”

“Not one bit. I’m about to get smoked out there.”

“No, you’re not. You’re Brooks Attwood. Tough as nails. You go on naked midnight swims with sharks, and you’re better than any of these other chumps even on your worst day.”

Brooks’s gaze drifts over my shoulder. “Are you going to be okay sitting with them?”

“Is she here?”

He nods, eyes on me, knowing exactly who I mean. “You’ll be proud of me—I managed to greet McDaniels with a nod instead of my fist.”

“Setting the bar high in the maturity department. Guess I can’t do what I’d been planning.” I wiggle my fingers, showing off my bright red nails. “Your friends gave me permission to scratch her eyes out. Got a pointy, bad-bitch manicure and everything.”

Brooks barks out a laugh just as a whistle on the field goes off. Behind him, the other players start moving into position either by the benches or at the fifty-yard line.

“Here goes nothing,” Brooks says.

I grab his jersey before he gets too far. “Give it everything you have, but don’t forget about Sophia. She needs her future daddy in one piece. I need you in one piece.”

His shoulders soften beneath his pads. “For you and Sophia, huh?”

“And Peter. Can’t forget about Pete.”

Brooks’s eyes close a moment. All traces of nerves and fatigue are gone. “Siena, I…” He pauses. Bites his tongue, I think even literally. “The things I’d do for the three of you, if you’d let me have you. You have no idea.”

My heart thumps in my chest. Fingertips tingle. Because I think that’s as close to anI love youas you can get without saying the words.

I pull my anchor necklace over my head, slip it over his, and tuck it under his jersey.

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