I slammed my locker shut and swung my bag up on my shoulder, hair still wet and dripping onto my T-shirt-covered shoulders.
A wedding DJ would be extraordinarily proud of my version of the hustle as I rushed around trying to get my shit together and head out of the stadium in order to make it to my destination in time.
“Yo, Bailey, grab a bite with me,” Jorge “Teeny” Martinez, my left tackle and the guy who often steamrolled the “me” from the other team, invited, but I was shaking my head before he even finished.
“Sorry, buddy. I’ve got some errands to run. Rain check, though, okay?”
As one of the leaders of the team, I made it a point to make time for all of my teammates. Practice time, life time—even time to share a meal or do stupid shit. In my experience, it kept them out of trouble, and it made them even more determined to protect me on game day. Both of those were very high up on my priorities list.
Just not today.
He jerked up his chin, and I motored again, weaving through the men strolling around in towels and various states of dress, all fresh from the showers after a vigorous morning practice.
Thankfully, we’d done most of the outdoor activity during the early morning hours, when the sun wasn’t quite yet at its full strength, but it’d still been hot as balls.
“Q!” Sean yelled from behind me, my stride casually eating up the hall on my way out of the stadium as fast as I could go. “Wait up, dude.”
I slowed to a normal pace, even though I didn’t really have the luxury of extra time, and gave him a chance to catch me.
“What’s up?” I asked as he finally made it to my side.
“Where you headed in such a hurry? You were moving around the locker room like your throttle got stuck, and I know you don’t have any kids to take to the doctor and shit.”
I shook my head and chuckled. “I have things to do today. They’re time-consuming. I’m in a hurry. What’s the big deal?”
He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push it. “Fine, fine. If you say so.”
“I say so,” I said, and without waiting, started walking again. He fell into step beside me, the bastard.
I shook my head again as we walked and asked, “What are you doing?”
“I’m coming with you.”
“Sean—”
“You may have a busy day, my man, but I’m as free as that whale Willy.”
“Great,” I acquiesced. It was useless fighting him. Sean’s undying persistence was what made him one of the best receivers in the league.
I smiled then, though, as I thought about how funny it was going to be when Sean figured out what the fuck he’d just gotten himself into.
Down the hall, through the lobby, and out the doors, Sean and I walked in silence all the way to the parking lot, stopping beside my car.
“What about your Jeep?” I asked.
He shrugged as he pulled the handle to the passenger door of my F-150 and climbed in. I followed suit after tossing my bag in the back seat.
“I’ll leave it here for now. You can either drop me by later today when we’re done running around, or I’ll get it tomorrow,” he clarified when the ringing from both of our doors slamming shut silenced.
I smiled. Yeah, it’s probably going to be tomorrow, buddy.
“Okay.”
Something occurred to me, so I asked, point-blank.
“You have your driver’s license on you?”
His cheeks climbed closer to his eyes, but he didn’t question it—at least, not directly. “Yeah.”
I nodded, and with one flick of my wrist, the engine fired to life, and we were off.
Next stop, JFK.
Sean didn’t really start to get inquisitive until we crossed over the Verrazano Bridge onto the Belt Parkway. Traffic was thick, and the route was long as we weaved our way along the inlet shoreline, around Brooklyn, and past Coney Island. Summer was in the air, and the beach was thick with tan bodies and gelled hair. Rides spun and danced, and lights flickered and flared in bright, colorful patterns as people got in a little adventure at Brooklyn’s favorite amusement park.
Everyone was partaking in all the recreational time they could before fall came and wrecked it all with colder temperatures and school schedules.
“What do you have to do all the way out here?” Sean asked, surveying all the people with languid eyes and propping a sock-covered foot up on my dashboard as I rolled down the windows.
I hummed, pursing my lips with a grin. I wasn’t sure I could really say anything at this point without lying, and I wasn’t keen to have him beg me to turn the truck around either.
I settled on the truth—a vague version of it anyway—knowing I’d just struggle to fill in the gaps in any other tale I tried to weave. “Just have to swing by JFK.”
“Is your brother flying in?” he asked, his eyebrows drawn down into a funny little point. I glanced between him and the road, watching as traffic once again slowed to a crawl.
“Nah. His schedule’s too busy with preseason training for Alabama.”
He nodded in response to my non-answer, and thankfully, got stuck on a subject I was an expert at talking about in minute detail—football.
“How’s he doing? He’s starting this year, right?”
“Yep. Groover finally graduated, and they’re trying out Den as the starting quarterback.”
“How’s he feeling about it?”
I shrugged. “He’d probably be better if he didn’t hate football.”
“What the fuck?” Sean asked, surprised. Apparently, we’d never discussed the real details of my brother and all his complications with the game Sean and I both loved. “What do you mean, he hates football? Why’s he playing, then?”
“My dad,” I said simply. “My brother both hates my father and hangs on his every approval at the same time. Den and I are complete opposites in a lot of aspects, and my parents would have him believe that I’m everything he should be. Which is complete bullshit. When it comes down to it, my brother’s just trying to walk a line with being his own guy and getting a little parental warmth for himself.”
“Wow.”
I nodded, my fingers flexing on the leather of my steering wheel. “I know. The sad thing is, if my dad weren’t so invested in football, Den would probably love playing it.”
Sean sank his head into his hands and pretended to rub at his temples with a little chuckle. “I thought you said he’s playing because of your dad. Why would he love it if your dad weren’t invested?”
“Because then it’d have nothing to do with my dad.”
“This is some twisted shit.”
I nodded and hummed, trying to put the whole thing into words. “Den is doomed to unhappiness until he can let it all go. My dad is the factor that will forever taint everything. Den doesn’t allow himself to love football because my dad loves football. But he’s fucking good.” I raised one shoulder cockily. “I am his big brother, after all.”
“Wow, QB. I had no idea your family was so messed up.”
“Lies and blood, Phillips. The best camouflage there is.”
I pulled off the exit and followed the signs for short-term parking, and finally, Sean remembered why he’d been asking about my brother in the first place.
“Okay, so, it’s not your brother. Who else is flying in?”
I smiled as I pulled up to the machine to take a parking ticket, and pulled through the gate as it lifted to let us by. “Nobody.”
“All right, dude. You’ve been the most taciturn during this car ride that you’ve ever been in your life, and the ambiguity is starting to freak me out. If no one’s flying in, what the fuck are we doing at the airport?”
He’d been patient—way more patient than I’d have ever been in bumper-to-bumper traffic—and as I pulled the truck into a space and cut the engine, I figured he was stuck there with me whether he liked it or not. It was time to tell him the truth.
“We’re flying out.”
He laughed. Just one quick burst that turned into a scoff when I didn’t immediately start laughing with him.
“We have practice tomorrow morning!” he semi-yelled, reminding me of something I already knew.
I rolled my eyes and opened my center console to dig out my wallet. I couldn’t tell you how many times Jillian had yelled at me for leaving it in there, preached about how someone was going to rob me stupid one day, but I couldn’t be bothered. It was just so much easier to leave it in there for when I needed it. “I know. We’re flying to Birmingham on the 2:15 and then right back on the 6:45. We’ll be home by midnight at the latest.”
“We’re flying there and back again, back-to-back?”
I nodded.
“Why in the fuck would we do that?”
I smiled. “Sean, buddy,” I murmured and then paused to squeeze his shoulder. “I’d like you to meet someone. Someone who I think might just be someone special.”
Sean grumbled as we walked down the jetway, giving my Beats, wrapped conveniently around my neck, a flick. “I can’t believe I’m doing over six hours’ worth of flying, and I don’t even have my headphones.”
“I’ll remind you,” I said, the thud of our big feet on the extendable tube making the entirety of it shake, “You volunteered to come along. Chased me down at the stadium, as it were. I was supposed to be doing this alone.”
“I didn’t know I was signing up to fly to fucking Alabama and back!” he snapped. “I thought I was riding along to the goddamn post office. Maybe the grocery store.”
“Oh, Seany, growing up with that sister of yours, I know you had to have learned what a bad idea it is to assume.”
“Leave Cassie out of this.”
“She is insane. An impromptu trip to Alabama should be like a walk in the park for you.”
My most recent personal experience with her had been at the cabin in the Catskills last Christmas, but she was always coming to the games, cheering Sean on, and raising all holy hell. What I said was no exaggeration: Cassie Phillips, now Kelly, was off her fucking rocker.
He laughed and tried to touch the back of his head with his eyeballs. “It’s been several years since we lived together. I guess I’m out of practice.”
“Well, good then, ol’ buddy. Your Captain Quinn is good for practice any day of the week.”
We were both laughing, wide smiles lightening our sometimes mean faces as we stepped up to the plane and a pretty flight attendant’s eyes went wide at the sight of us.
“Quinn Bailey and Sean Phillips,” she muttered, her breath soft and her voice even softer. Her eyes, though, they danced with light.
My smile turned polite as I stuck out my hand, offering it to the woman I’d never seen before—a woman who was obviously a fan.
Shit. I sure hope Cat didn’t switch fucking flights with someone. I laughed a little to myself. Goddamn, that’d be one hell of a joke on me.
“Nice to meet you, ma’am.” Sean nodded in kind.
“Carly,” she said, blushing. “My name’s Carly.”
She turned her body and reached out a hand toward the aisle of the plane, but her wide green eyes never left me.
“Uh, um,” she mumbled, trying to snap her fingers at someone down the aisle and failing. Finally, she got it together. “Cat!” she nearly yelled, turning to look down the aisle but stopping before actually making it far enough to look and jerking her gaze back to us.
I smiled and relaxed, knowing now with absolute certainty that my girl was on the plane. I could allow myself to enjoy the excited fan’s bumbling.
“What?” Cat asked, looking down at her hands as she stuffed some garbage in a little bag, her step hurried. “Why are you snapping at me?”
Carly just pointed. Sean and I smiled, still outside the plane, having been barred by a dumbfounded Carly. In fact, a line of waiting passengers had started to form behind me just like last time.
Cat’s gaze followed Carly’s hand, and when it landed on me, her whole body jerked.
“Quinn?” she said on a surprised whisper.
I winked. “Hey there, kitten.”
Sean, the asshole, nudged me from behind.
I shook my head slightly but smiled. “This is Sean.”