Page 5 of Something New

Wyatt nodded. Anna Maria Costado. The woman he had thought he would spend the rest of his life with. He saw her every day, in every dark-haired woman he saw on campus, heard her in every throaty laugh, felt her every time he got a hard-on. He hadn’t been a monk since she had left him after his injury four years ago, but when his NFL contract dried up, so did the women, and so did his sex drive. None of them had satisfied him like Anna had, but she was long gone, shaking off the dust from Texas for the bright lights of Hollywood and the silver screen. If he wanted to torture himself, he turned onBlazing Passionsand jerked off to her character, Bianca St. John. That was the most action he’d seen in the past year.

“Have you seen her or talked to her since she left?” Kyle asked.

Wyatt followed him over to the bench press and spotted him. “Nope. Not one word.”

“My wife watches her television show. She’s addicted to it. Worse than those daytime soaps.” Kyle grunted as he did his reps, then he sat up. “Seriously, if you’re headed for the wedding, let me talk to Claire. Maybe her friend would be willing to go as your plus one. It can’t hurt to ask, right?”

Wyatt snorted and took his spot on the bench. “You’re kidding, right? What’s wrong with this woman that she’s willing to drop everything and go away with a man she doesn’t know for a weekend to a wedding?”

“A woman who is dying to meet to Anna Costado and a woman my wife has been talking you up to. Come on. What could it hurt?”

Wyatt did his ten reps and dropped the bar with a bang. “No can do. We’re out there for the week ahead of time for wedding stuff, no significant others. So, either way, I’ll be stuck with Anna alone. Why bother dragging someone into it at the end after all the damage has been done?”

Kyle grunted. “Good thing we have a bye-week. No way would you have been able to take a week off otherwise.”

“Matthew knew our schedule, and they arranged it that way. Besides, I think they had to work around Anna’s filming schedule.”

Kyle moved onto the leg press. “So, what are you going to do?”

Wyatt shrugged. “It’s no big deal. I’m over her.”

“Yeah right. Can you get my wife her autograph?”

Wyatt threw his towel at Kyle. “That’s where Carter was having sex.”

Kyle jumped like he was a scalded cat, and Wyatt laughed, feeling some joy he knew wouldn’t last long.

* * *

Wyatt stretched out on his couch, a beer in one hand, the remote in the other. They had won the game earlier that day. Oklahoma was no match for UT, even with their backup quarterback—a fact that irritated their starter, Terrence Carter, to no end, especially now that he was benched for two more weeks because of his antics in the weight room. Rules were rules, and the kid was stupid enough to get caught, not that Wyatt hadn’t done similar stupid shit when he was at UT and dating Anna. No, they had their share of risky moments and times when hormones overrode good judgment.

Wyatt rubbed his knee. He’d certainly paid for it in spades.

He couldn’t completely blame Anna for the injury, even if he wanted to. He had been a young, stupid, arrogant football player, drunk on his brand-new NFL contract, dating a hot girl who was destined to be a Hollywood star. All the guys wanted her and wanted to be him, especially in Texas. And playing for his dream team, the home team, only solidified his standing. But, as they said, the bigger asses they were, the harder fall they had. He had plummeted so fast after blowing out his knee, making it damn near impossible for him to ever maneuver in the pocket with any kind of grace or speed or confidence again. One day, he was a top NFL prospect, backup to the quarterback and the future of the team, with the hottest girl around. The next, he was lying on a gurney in a hospital, hoping he could walk again without a limp, alone, with no clue what he’d do for his future.

He drank half the bottle in one deep swallow and flipped through the channels, suddenly not in the mood for football. Sometimes he wondered why he had stayed in the sport that broke his heart. He couldn’t even watch the NFL on Sundays anymore without wondering what it would have been like to be on the field again, hearing the roar of the crowd or the insults from the other team. College football was the closest he came to watching, only because it was his job now. Instead, on Sundays, he found something else to do. Helping his parents around the ranch, although his brother was taking more and more of that on and didn’t need Wyatt. So, he worked out, studied game tape, and sometimes coached local high school kids on the side. Parents insisted their kid was the next Tom Brady or Troy Aikman and that he just had to help them. But it was money, and he was surprised to discover he enjoyed coaching, something he never thought he’d have to think about for twenty years or more.

A flash of red caught his eye, and he paused. It was the Aggies, the team they were playing in a couple of weeks. They were a big rival and a team that could beat them and put his decision to bench Terrence Carter to the test with the fans, alumni, and coaching staff. Billington could handle it, with a shot of confidence.

The phone rang, and he absently picked it up, expecting his brother with some discussion about the ranch.

“Wyatt? Hey, great game today. Kind of expected you to be out celebrating.” Wyatt glanced at the caller ID on his cell phone. Matthew Coughlin.

He took another sip of his beer. “What makes you think I’m not?”

“No noise except a faint sound of a game, so you’re probably lying on your couch in your shorts, drinking a beer and watching The Aggies.”

Wyatt shot up and glanced around at the windows. “Are you screwing around with me? Stalking me through the windows or something?”

Matthew laughed. “Nope, I’m already on Whitby, or I’d have been at the game today. Nice job against Oklahoma. Always like to beat them. Going to be a real challenge in a couple of weeks, though.”

Wyatt rested his beer on the coffee table and ran a hand through his hair, the strands longer than his usual buzz cut. “You didn’t call me to shoot the breeze about football, not when I’ll be spending the week with you. What do you need?”

“Hi, Wyatt! I can’t wait to see you tomorrow,” Caroline Masters, Matthew’s bubbly bride said over the phone, Matthew’s voice fading into the distance.

A smile crossed his face. He genuinely liked Caroline. Everyone did. She was sweet and kind and a real ball buster wrapped in velvet, but one never knew what hit them when Caroline got started. She was planning something. No bride scheduled an event outside of her wedding the week leading up to the big day. Even he knew that.

“Looking forward to it, Caroline.” He leaned back against the couch and rested his head.

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