Page 3 of Only Between Us

Humiliation trickles through every inch of my body. At my side, Summer whispers a very sad, “Oh, Brooks.”

I’ve done my best to forget the six months I spent aimlessly wandering LA after my retirement. Not just because I’d been broken-hearted over losing my dream career at twenty-seven. But because the day I’d announced my retirement—already the worst day of my life—was also the day I caught Naomi, my then-girlfriend of eight years, cheating with my own teammate.

She’d taken my barely beating heart and turned it into a lifeless husk. The months that followed were a blur of Hollywoodnightclubs, nameless women I’d never see again. Too much liquor and brain-numbing hangovers. Living on instant gratification. Anything and everything I could do to forget that I’d just had the soul ripped out of me, losing my dream career and college sweetheart in a single day.

I was a walking disaster of a human. Treated my body like shit until my poor mom finally broke down in a fit of tears over the phone one night. It crushed me so bad, I got my ass into therapy the very next morning.

“It’s an unsignable offense,” Josh continues, “because the Rebels are a family-owned business. Passed down through generations of the Dupont family, who very much value their reputation as a squeaky-clean organization. And according to this slideshow, you seem to have fucked your way through the state of California the last time you lived there.”

“I haven’t done that in a long time.” My voice comes out paper-thin. I’m fixated on the photo on screen, the way I look… barelythere. Barely alive.

“Since you moved to Oakwood to coach,” Josh specifies. “I know. You cleaned up your act, did something with your day that didn’t involve drinking and fucking. But as far as they’re concerned, you got your act togetherafterleaving the Hollywood scene. They’re convinced that bringing you back will set you off. That you’ll humiliate the organization with more of this very public indecency the moment you set foot in that town again.”

I shake my head, rejecting the thought that the Rebels might not want me back because of the stupid things I’d done in a drunk and depressed fog. “This is bullshit. You see that, right? I haven’t been that guy in years. I’ve… I’ve been productive and responsible—”

Josh hits that damn key on his laptop and the next photo puts me way back on my heels. It’s set at Oakley’s, the only bar here in Oakwood. It’s a grainy photo again, taken from across the room, but it’s clearly me. Sitting in a chair with a petite blonde in my lap.

Josh raises his eyebrows. “You had an affair with your best friend’s girlfriend just a few months ago—”

I cough out a breath. Beside me, Parker mutters “Oh, Jesus” and runs his fingers through his hair. Summer chokes on a startled laugh. Probably because the woman on screen is our friend Melody, who also happens to be Parker’s twin sister and our friend Zac’s now-fiancée.

“That wasn’t real.” The satisfaction of finally being able to explain something forces a laugh out of me. “I was her fake boyfriend. We pretended to date each other so Parker wouldn’t know she was really hooking up with his childhood best friend. If anything,shewas the one having an affair, seeing as she had two boyfriends on the go. One real, one fake.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Josh demands.

“It wasn’t real. That one-time lap-sitting was as far as it ever got with us, and Zac—her real boyfriend—was in on it. It was fake. I was her fake boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend?” Josh blinks. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Thankyou.” Parker shakes his head at the photo of me and his sister sitting together. Summer huffs a laugh. “Absolutely stupid.”

“Point is, all you have to do is explain that to the Rebels, and this’ll be squared away.”

“And the other women?” Josh flies through the back-alley photos again. “Were you fake-dating them, too?”

“That’s… No. It’s exactly what it looks like. But I wasn’t in my right mind then.” I white-knuckle the racked squat bar, willing away the nausea that rumbles through me with every picture that flashes on his screen.

“That’s enough.” Parker moves to my side. His body is tense like he expects to have to jump into a brawl at any moment. “He gets the point, Josh. Knock that shit off.”

Summer snaps shut Josh’s laptop, removing the photos from my sight. The tension in my chest eases almost instantly. They’ve spent the past few months tirelessly working to get me into playing shape, but I’ve never been more grateful for the both of them.

“All right.” Josh sighs. It’s as close to an apology as I’ve ever heard from him. “Look, Brooksy, you know there’s no one more invested in your comeback than me.”

Summer snorts. Parker rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Tweedledee and Tweedledum over here aside.” Josh waves a dismissive hand at them.

“Don’t.” Summer flings an arm out in front of Parker without even looking his way—probably sensing, by virtue of their twenty-six years of friendship, that he was about a moment away from throttling my agent. He’s always been anact first, think laterkind of guy.

Parker’s body immediately deflates.

Josh watches it unfold with amusement, and I think I might throttle him myself. “Is that what you’ve come here to tell me, Josh? That the only team I want to play for won’t have me? That there’s no chance of my signing with them?”

Josh turns his attention back to me. “That is what I’m saying. Before our call today, I would’ve given you a ninety percent chance of receiving an invite to their training camp in a couple months’ time.”

“And now? What chance do I have?”

“Unless you find a way to convince the Rebels owners that you’re no longer the kind of person who meets with random women in back alleys—yes, I know it was consensual, Brooks.” He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his slacks, shakes his head at the beginnings of my protest. “It doesn’t matter to them how ready and willing these people were. Unless you can somehow prove you’ve settled down, that you’ve turned over a new leaf? You can kiss your chances of signing with them goodbye.”

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