Eighteen

JENSEN

I hadn’t heard from Rowan, so I assumed Calder had settled down for the rest of the night.

Although I’d been up late, I rolled out of bed at my usual time and met with Dante at the training center. None of my teammates had shown up, so it was a quiet but intense workout. Especially since Dante seemed more preoccupied than usual.

Legs wobbly, arms aching, I parked myself in front of the industrial fan in the locker room, letting the sweat drip off my face and hair onto the towel between my feet.

“What’s going on with you lately?” Dante said, startling me.

I didn’t bother looking at him. I’d grown tired of defending myself at every turn. I’d proven myself to anyone in the organization who’d demanded it of me, whenever they’d demanded it. “I more than kept up today and you damn well know it. The amount of speed I’ve lost since the surgeries is nominal and will have zero effect on my ability to run the ball. I’m stronger, more agile, so I can block faster. I’ve never been in better shape so I seriously don’t know what you want from me, Coach.”

Silence.

Dante laughed. Not a nice laugh either. “Coach, huh? Guess you put me in my place. So much for my belief we’re friends outside of me being your trainer.”

I said nothing, because knowing Dante as I did, he wasn’t finished.

“To clarify, Rocket, when I asked what was going on with you, I meant in your life outside of football training. In the past month, I don’t hear from you aside from texts asking about the workout schedule. We used to hang out. We used to go out. Now, it feels like you’ve cut me out.” He paused. “I’m not the only one who’s noticed. When was the last time you spent time with your teammates? You used to make an effort. Hell, Jensen, you used to be fun. Clubs, parties, women, you were up for anything, anytime. What happened to that guy?”

“That guy doesn’t exist anymore.” I finally met Dante’s gaze. “And good fucking riddance to him. What I find interesting is that you noticed after our Florida and Mexico trip that I’d changed. Know why? Because you kept your distance from me after my injury. You and everyone else on the team. There’s no reason to invest time in a former player and teammate, right?”

“Not true, bro.”

“Totally true, bro, because I lived it. There’s no need for a ‘feel sorry for me’ conversation, and I’ve never brought it up for that reason. My family hired the best doctors to fix me. My family aided in my recovery. My family rallied around me. My family reminded me that I was more to them than a football player. Somehow along the way, I’d forgotten that.

“Ever since I was drafted, I get the superstar treatment. While it’s great, it’s not real. And my teammates, as you pointed out, always counted on me to be part of the posse. Booze, women, elite clubs. These players have multimillion-dollar contracts. So why did I end up footing the bill for most of those wild nights? You know why? Because I’m a nice guy. I’d rather just pull out my credit card than bicker about who had how many shots of Hennessy. Not a single one of them noticed . . . until I stopped going. It wasn’t me they missed as much as my wallet. Like I said, I’m not whining. I’m not bitter. What I am? Is wiser. That doesn’t change the fact that I will go to the dirt for these guys when we’re on the field. But as soon as that uniform comes off, I’m not The Rocket. I’m finally grasping the fact I have a lot more to offer the world than my celebrity—as fleeting as that may be.”

I didn’t wait for his response. Instead I returned to my locker, stripped and hit the shower. The hot water loosened my muscles. The steam cleared my head. As a shy kid, I’d had a hard time speaking up for myself. Growing up as the fourth kid in my family, I found it easier to let my siblings speak for me. Around age sixteen, after Annika had gone to college, and Walker had moved to Sweden, and Brady was killing himself in grad school, I had no choice but to learn to assert myself.

I hated it. It took me a few years to be comfortable with it and not apologetic. The only place I had no problem asserting myself was on the football field. The women who hang around athletes are the aggressors, and I happily let them be. To say I didn’t have to work hard to get laid? Massive understatement. I hated when I had to become an asshole to get them to leave me alone. I’d learned my lesson there, but much later than I probably should have.

After I dressed and was on my way out, I noticed Dante waiting by the exit for me.

Great. Now I’d have to listen to his rebuttal. With my twenty-minute shower I’d given him plenty of time to come up with one.

Maybe if I just walked past him without making eye contact . . .

“I wondered if you had drowned in there.”

No such luck on ducking further conversation. “Nope. I’ll see you Monday, D.”

“Hold up.”

I kept walking.

He followed me. “Who is she?”

“Who is who?”

“The woman you’re seeing.”

“What makes you think I’m seeing anyone?”

“Come on, Jens. This is me. There’s a woman you’re trying to impress by staying on the straight and narrow. Fine. Whatever. But who is she?”

So, nothing I’d said in the locker room had resonated with him.

That’s because if it had, he’d have to shoulder some of the blame for your attitude. It’s easier to blame his shortcomings on someone else. You’ve known this about him. That’s why you’ve kept your professional distance, even when he has no idea you don’t consider him anything more than just your trainer.

It still made me sad, though, that my honesty counted for nothing.

Good thing I had my sunglasses on; that way he couldn’t see the total bullshit in my eyes. I faced him. “You busted me.”

He grinned. “I knew it. So who is she?”

“Her name is Astrid. You don’t know her.”

“She sounds hot. I’ll bet she’s as fiery as an asteroid between the sheets, amirite?”

I said nothing. But I didn’t need to.

Dante clapped me on the back. “Anyway, I’m happy to hear that. Part of me worried that you were hooking up with Rowan Michaels.”

“Why would you give a shit about that?”

“Because she is one hundred percent off-limits, man. She and I are friends, and I’d hate to see her fired because you can’t keep your hands off her pompoms.”

Took all my willpower not to take a swing at him. “You’re full of shit, D. Why would she be fired?”

“Because they can’t fire you. They’d fine the hell out of you for breaking the no-frat rule, but her? Gone. It’s not like anyone would notice.” He snickered. “You wouldn’t notice. There are a dozen women ready to slip on those tiny white booty shorts and go-go boots and shake their T and A for the crowd. But there’s only one Rocket.”

In my mind’s eye, I’d cracked him a good one in the jaw and as he lay sputtering and bleeding on the blacktop, my tires spit gravel on him as I drove off.

Dante proved how much of a tool he was when he said, “Call me. I wanna meet this Astrid chick you’re filling with rocket fuel.”

•   •   •

Unwanted thoughts created a logjam in my head. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t want to go home. I needed some distance from Rowan. Maybe for her own good.

I drove to Brady’s place. I had the code for his private gym and an open invitation to use it whenever I wanted. Shooting hoops would be a great waste of time.

Once I was inside the cavernous space, I grabbed a basketball. Sitting on the bench, I messed around, dribbling and bouncing the ball. Then I headed toward the hoop.

I’d shot maybe four times from the free throw line when I heard the door open that separated Brady’s living space from the ultimate man cave/garage.

“So the Vikes cut you and you’re brushing up on your basketball skills to try out for the Timberwolves?” Brady said as he descended the metal staircase.

“What little faith you have in my recovery, bro.” Four bounces. Shoot. Swish.

“Jens. You know I was yanking your chain.”

He stopped beside the line and I gave him a once-over. “Nice suit. You wear one even on a Saturday? Dude.”

“FYI: I had a business breakfast meeting, so of course I wore a suit. I’ve only been home an hour and I hadn’t changed yet. Dick.”

I laughed. “Speaking of dick . . . your fly is undone. You’re not wearing a belt and your tie looks like one of my day campers put it on you. I won’t even get into what a mess your hair is, Mr. Perfectly Coiffed.”

Brady flashed me a cocky grin. “What can I say? My wife can’t resist me when I’m wearing Tom Ford. Especially on the weekend.”

“That explains why you guys are late to brunch most Sundays.”

“Yep.”

“I didn’t show up looking for company. I sure didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You didn’t. Lennox went back to sleep after I wore her out.” Brady snatched the ball from my hands.

“You’re not dressed to take me on, one on one, GQ.”

He snorted. “It’s against the rules for you to play basketball, bro. You might twist something important. But the suit won’t stop me from kicking your ass in a game of horse.”

“Whatever. I’ll even let you go first.”

“How gracious of you.” He shrugged out of his suit jacket and zipped his fly. Then he shot a three-pointer from the side. Swish. He aimed that cocky grin at me. “Nothin’ but net.”

“Lucky shot.”

He chased the ball and pitched it to me. “You’re up.”

I dribbled. I shot. Swish. “See? Easy pickin’s from right there.”

Brady shot and missed.

Then I shot and missed.

“Not that I’m not happy to see you, Jens, but you do tend to show up when there’s something on your mind.”

“Yeah. Well. Maybe I need advice. But I also need to tell you about it in my own way.”

He bounced one off the backboard into the hoop from the free throw line.

I moved in and sank the same shot.

“The way it’s going with this game, you’ll have all afternoon to get it out.”

While he was choosing his spot to shoot from, I said, “It’s about Rowan.”

“Rowan,” he repeated. “The single-mother cheerleading medical professional who breaks every one of your dating rules?”

Smart-ass. “That’s her.”

“What’s going on?”

“I think I might be kinda sorta halfway in love with her.”

Brady stopped dribbling. “You think, you might . . . kinda, sorta . . . halfway? Nope. Nothing wrong with that vague-ass statement.”

“Excuse the hell out of me. I’ve never been in love, so I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel. I should—it should—feel more solid, right? I mean, I should know if it’s the real deal?”

He sighed. “I’d hoped maybe you were here for financial advice, because I can dole that shit out in my sleep. But this?” Brady shook his head. “Until I met Lennox, I had zero experience with that kind of love.”

“Which is why you are the perfect person for me to talk to about this. Walker’s been in and out of love with a dozen women. Triple that number for Nolan. Jax . . . he’s been in an altered frame of mind so I doubt he even remembers if he was in love. And Ash is hung up on that Olivia chick. So it’s your lucky day. I’d sound like an idiot if I admitted this to anyone else.”

“Admitted what?”

“That maybe I’m mistaking friendship and fondness and responsibility for something deeper with Rowan because I don’t know what is normal.” My face was on fire—not from overexertion. I hung my head and set my hands on my hips. “Do you know what a totally self-involved asshole I feel like admitting that out loud? Even to you?”

“Yeah, Jens, I do know.”

I met his gaze. “Help me sort this out. Please.”

Brady pointed to the bench. “This conversation requires beer. And yeah, I stocked that low-cal, low-carb kind so it doesn’t mess with your training diet.”

“Been expecting me, have you?” I joked.

“More like I hoped you’d come around more often.” He handed me a beer and sat on the opposite end of the bench with his. “I’m a list guy. That won’t work in this case, so just go with the stream-of-consciousness thing you do and I’ll try and keep up.”

My brother wasn’t being flip. Our brains worked in different ways and we’d known since we were kids that in order to understand each other, we had to adjust our listening skills. It was one of the best things our parents had taught us, since they’d dealt with it because of our mother’s background as a non-native English speaker.

So I laid it all out for him. From my list of dating rules to Rowan’s list making anything between us a nonstarter. From the perspective that she had something to lose if anyone discovered our involvement, to my stubbornness that no one should get to dictate that for us. I liked her kid; I hated the responsibilities of single parenthood resting solely on her shoulders. I could see myself being around her and Calder every day and liking it more each day. I listed every single thing I liked about her. Every single thing that drove me crazy. I didn’t keep track in my head because I knew Brady was compiling a mental list. When I finished speaking, I took a long pull of beer and allowed my brother some time to process it.

After a few moments, he said, “There’s one thing you didn’t mention at all.” He paused. “Sex.”

“Because we haven’t had sex yet.”

Brady raised both of his eyebrows. “You’re serious.”

“Last night we were like . . . this close, but Calder got sick and that was that.”

“Then to be honest, I don’t think you’ll know if this is the real ‘love’ deal until the sexing happens.”

“Seriously? That’s the last thing I expected you to list as criteria.”

“Oh yeah? I’m shocked as hell that you haven’t slept with her and yet you think you’re falling for her. That is not you, Jensen.”

“Maybe it’s how I am now. I’m not the freakin’ needy manwhore I used to be.”

He faced me. “Hear me out before you get pissy and defensive. One thing I can tell you about being in love? Sex is a huge part of it. Huge. Because the sex is different. It’s the ultimate manifestation of all the things you love about that person. It is a physical expression of more than just affection. It’s important to a long-term relationship. And if you and Rowan reached that stage last night and her responsibilities to her son put a halt to everything, you have to ask yourself if it’ll always be an issue. If her son’s needs will always come before yours, no matter what.”

After he said that, I felt a sense of relief. I’d been thinking the same thing, but Brady spelling it out for me so matter-of-factly made me feel less like my concern was coming from a pair of blue balls and resentment I hadn’t wanted to admit. I hadn’t been telling her what I thought she wanted to hear last night when I said I wasn’t upset about us not doing the deed. Her kid was sick. The mood had been shattered. But that was last night. What if we were in the mood tonight? Could she let go with me if her son was in the next room?

“From a strictly logical point of view,” Brady continued, “a spontaneous sexual relationship will be damn difficult with a kid around all the time. Especially when Calder’s father isn’t in the picture and he isn’t away every other weekend for visitation, giving you and Rowan at least some alone time. You won’t get that lust-filled stage, where you cannot keep your hands off each other and you go at it wherever the mood strikes you. No sex in the kitchen, or on the dining room table, or on the couch during the late news, or against the wall by the front door as the groceries are scattered at your feet, or on the floor in front of the fireplace. The only place you’ll be safe having sex away from the kid is in the bedroom and maybe if you’re lucky, the bathroom. Is that something you can live with? Not just for the short term, but for years?”

Whoa. While Brady had made several points I needed to think about without man-sex-guilt, his rather specific list of all the taboo places sex couldn’t happen sounded like he’d been thinking about this long before I’d brought it up. I took another swig of beer. “As usual you’re spot-on. But, dude, you asked me that like you were asking yourself. So what’s the deal?”

Brady laughed. “Can’t pull one over on you.” He fiddled with his beer bottle. “Lennox wants to have a baby.”

That explained it. “And?”

“And I love the life I have with her. I love that we can just go wherever the hell we want. I love that if I want to bang her in the breakfast nook because she looks so damn beautiful with the sun streaming through her hair, I can, and not have to worry that there’s a baby in the high chair watching us across the table. Lennox is everything I ever wanted in a life partner. And I can’t help but feel that I’m not enough for her, if she wants to have a baby.”

“Have you told her any of this?”

He shook his head. “We’ve been married a couple of years, but it doesn’t seem like I’ve had enough time with her. She had a super shitty childhood, her mom is a piece of work and Lennox never expressed a burning desire to have a baby. So I don’t know if she wants this because Trinity is pregnant. So is her BFF Kiley. I have this . . . fear—probably an irrational one—that if we had a baby, we’d gain a family but I’d lose my wife. The way she is now. The way I love her now and I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready for that.”

I whistled. “This is some heavy stuff.”

“For both of us.”

“Have you thought about talking to Dad?”

Brady looked at me oddly. “Dad? Seriously? You think he’ll be honest about whether a kid ruins your sexual relationship with your wife while he’s looking into the eyes of his oldest son?”

“Yeah, I think Dad will be honest with you. Even if it stings a little. Even if the ‘sex with Mom’ portion of it makes you uncomfortable. Face it. He’s an expert at being a great father, maintaining his place in the family business and sustaining a marriage for years—to a woman he’s still crazy about—beyond the years they raised kids. I know we all assume Mom and Dad tell each other everything, but I know firsthand that’s not true.”

“Dad, huh?” Brady took another drink of beer. “Didn’t see that one coming. I figured you’d tell me to talk to a counselor.”

I shrugged. “It’s an option. But it’s better to go with someone you trust first. A guy who understands where you’re coming from.” I finished my beer and stood. “Which is why I showed up today. Thanks, by the way.”

“I don’t know that I helped you, without dragging my own shit into it.”

“You did. After my injury I quit being the guy that let my ego and my dick make my decisions about how I spent my time off the field. But I needed the reminder that I’m not the guy who’ll settle for a sexless existence either.”

“Good.” He walked me to the door. “You’ll be at brunch tomorrow?”

“It depends on where I end up tonight. And no, I’m not assuming that I’ll be rolling out of Rowan’s bed in the morning. I need some distance. I thought I’d go up to the cabin.”