That motherfucker.

I turn towards Elijah’s bedroom door, ready to go barreling through it. I could punch his lights out for making Farrah feel like that! I don’t even know what’s happened, but knowing Elijah, it’s his fault.

I feel oddly protective of her. The anger flares inside me again when I put my hand on the doorknob. But then, Maria’s words echo in my head—and this is definitely meddling. I hesitate. If I go rushing through this door and pick a fight with my brother, will it make it worse for Farrah?

I can yell at him for making his fiancée cry, but what business is that of mine? Whatever they’re going through, it has nothing to do with me.

It feels like it has something to do with me. It feels like it’s plenty of my business. I haven’t felt this passionate about anything since… I don’t know when! Since I started playing football, maybe. Farrah makes my heart thump just like it does when I walk out on the field. I take a deep breath, staring at the bedroom door as if it’ll tell me what I should do.

I would guess that Farrah’s mood has something to do with Elijah mistreating her, like he does with all his girlfriends. How he managed to hide his true nature long enough to get engaged is beyond me.

So with my hand hanging above the doorknob, I take a deep breath and let it drop to my side. Maria’s right. It’s not my place to get involved.

Instead, I turn around and go downstairs. Dad is sitting in his favorite leather recliner with a glass of cognac and a fat cigar. I sit down next to him, and he points to the crystal decanter on the bar in the corner of the room.

“You want a glass?”

“Sure,” I say, getting back up and heading to the bar. I uncork the crystal jug, setting the big round ball gently on the bar top. I grab a tumbler and put a couple cubes of ice in, then pour a couple fingers of amber liquid. I lift it up, watching the light reflect through the glass and cognac, and then inhale the spicy-sweet aroma.

“This is good shit, Dad,” I say after taking a sip.

He chuckles. “You sure have a way with words, son.”

“Silver tongued prince of the football field.”

“Is that what they call you in Boston?”

“Sure is,” I grin, sitting back down beside him. He looks at me from under bushy eyebrows, and then taps his cigar against the edge of the ashtray.

“I thought Mom didn’t like you smoking indoors,” I say, taking another sip.

“She’s relaxed in her old age,” he grins.

“Don’t let her hear you say that.”

Dad chuckles and then brings the cigar back up to his lips. He exhales in thick, white rings of smoke, each passing through the last.

He looks at me curiously. “So what do you think of Elijah’s new girl?”

The question surprises me, and I try not to let it show. I shrug. “She’s alright.”

And smoking hot.

“Nice girl,” he says.

“Mm.”

“He’s lucky.”

“He is.” If only he realized just how lucky he is, he might not treat her so badly.

Why is this conversation making me nervous? I jump when the patio doors open, and Farrah stomps her feet on the ground as she sheds her jacket. Moose comes bounding indoors.

“Where were you?” Dad asks, turning around to look at her. “You shouldn’t go wandering off on your own.”

“I was just down by the water,” she says, forcing a smile. “Needed some air and Moose needed to be walked before bed.” I can see the puffiness in her eyes and the redness on the tip of her nose. I don’t think it’s just the cold. Moose comes towards me and leaps onto my lap.

“Oh, sorry!” Farrah rushes towards me. “Come on, Moose, stop bothering Jesse. Come on!”

“It’s fine,” I laugh, scratching the dog’s ears. He sneezes and settles into my lap. I grin, looking up at Farrah. “Guess he likes me.”

“Guess he does,” she says, and I see the first hint of a smile on her lips. She takes a deep breath and takes a seat on the far end of the couch. “And I guess that means I’m stuck here for a few minutes.”

“Stuck!” I say in mock outrage. “Don’t be so flattering.”

Her shoulders relax a little and she smiles. Her eyes are saying thank you. I smile at her. It feels like we have an unsaid connection. Like she can read everything I’m thinking without me having to say it.

“You want a drink?” I ask, raising my glass.

She shakes her head. “Don’t drink. Thanks, though.”

“No? I thought you were drinking wine earlier.”

She glances at my father, who’s watching the two of us quietly. She smiles at the two of us. “I didn’t want to be rude and make a big scene about not drinking.”

“Makes sense. People can get annoying about it, and it’s a really personal decision.”

Her smile widens. “Exactly.”

Moose lifts his head and looks at her, and she gets up.

“That’s my cue,” she grins. She leans over me and her scent envelops me. I close my eyes for a second as the blood rushes from my head down to my legs. Her arms brush against my torso as she grabs Mr. Moose and my cock throbs.

I clear my throat and shift in my seat as Farrah wraps her arms around her dog.

She smiles at us, and says goodnight. I mumble one back, trying to focus on hiding the tent in my pants. She disappears down the hallway and Dad turns back to me with an eyebrow raised.

“When are you going to find a woman like that?”

I sigh, draining my glass. “I don’t like this line of questioning, Dad.”

He chuckles. “Come on! You’re my eldest son. You’re a good-lookin’ rooster! And you’re successful and wealthy—what’s taking so long?”

“The women that are around me are just…” I sigh. “I don’t know. Vapid.”

My dad chuckles. “I know what you mean. I remember when I started in the NFL, women would throw themselves at me left, right, and center. Thank God I met your mother before I was successful, otherwise I don’t know what I would have done.”

“Well, great, Dad. That gives me lots of hope.”

He laughs again. “What about a dating app? Or a website? Or a matchmaker?”

“What about focusing on football? The team’s doing well this year, we could have a shot at the Super Bowl.”

Dad grunts. “True. I just don’t want you to end up washed up and alone.”

“Where is this coming from?” The frustration is building inside me. I know that I’m getting older. I’ve read the headlines about ‘retirement’ and getting ‘old’. I’m not even thirty-five!

But in football years, I’m ancient. Our backup quarterback is eyeing my spot on the starting line. This year isn’t just a shot at the Super Bowl… it could be my last shot at the Super Bowl. The thought of ending up ‘washed up and alone’ has definitely crossed my mind.

“I still got a couple good years in me, Dad,” I say, staring at my empty glass. “And plus, I’ve got the Football School starting up this year. I’m busy.”

“When is construction starting on that?”

“In the spring.” I’ve been wanting to start another project for a long time, and this off-season seems like the perfect time to start. I’ll be building a huge after-school facility in Boston, with world-class training facilities for kids from ten to eighteen. And I’m planning on offering scholarships for ten percent of the student body. It’s my way of giving back, and starting something before I have to finish my career in the NFL.

My dad grunts. “That’ll keep you busy. You might meet someone. A hot single football mom or something.”

I grin and shake my head. “Maybe, Dad. Maybe.”

My mother appears in the doorway. She’s wrapped in a paisley bathrobe and she smiles at the two of us. She glides over to the sofa and puts her hands on my shoulders, leaning down to lay a peck on my cheek.

“It’s good to have a full house,” she says. “I’m glad you could make it up to the cabin this year.”

“Me too, Mom.” But I’m not sure that’s entirely true. Ever since Farrah and Elijah got here, my head has been spinning.

“And isn’t Farrah wonderful,” she says, patting my shoulders. “When are you going to bring a girl like that back to meet us?”

“As soon as I meet one,” I laugh. “You and Dad are like bloodhounds.”

I know they mean well. I know they do. But it’s starting to get to be too much. Elijah this, Elijah that. Farrah is great. Where’s your girlfriend? When are you getting married?

I know she’s great! Farrah is fucking amazing. No wonder Elijah wants to lock that down!

I just wish he didn’t make her cry. I wish I didn’t know how he treated his exes. I wish I could meet a woman like her and make her my queen.

Otherwise, as my father so eloquently put, I’ll be washed up and alone.

And that’s the last thing I want.

I push myself off the couch and kiss my mother’s cheek, and squeeze my father’s shoulder as I walk past.

“Don’t forget, Jesse, the Harveys are coming over for Christmas Eve dinner tomorrow! Their daughter is coming too. You remember Sally, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I remember Sally,” I say. I remember walking in on Sally straddling Elijah right before I was supposed to ask her to the end of summer Regatta when I was fifteen. That was the spark that set off the explosion between my brother and I.

“Well, Elizabeth told me Sally was single.” My mother wiggles her eyebrows at me and I chuckle, shaking my head.

“I’ve got to focus on ball, Mom. Now is not the time to get involved with a childhood friend.”

“I’m just saying,” she says, throwing up her arms. “I’ve always thought the two of you belonged together.”

Maybe before she hooked up with my brother.

“Right. Okay, goodnight.”

I slink away, letting out a big sigh as soon as I’m out of range. I know that seeing Elijah engaged has thrown my parents into wedding mode. But Sally Harvey? Please. I have standards.

I crane my ears when I pass Elijah and Farrah’s room, and then I shake my head. Am I really that pathetic? What am I going to do, swoop in and start dating Farrah if they break up?

They’re probably snuggled up together in bed, happily in love again. I don’t even know what they were fighting about. It could be something completely innocent.

I climb into my own bed and shiver as I push my feet to the bottom of the freezing cold sheets. It’s just one more reminder that I’m here alone.