Three

JENSEN

I hauled my ass out of bed at four thirty the next morning.

Since I hadn’t seen my older brothers for several weeks, they’d demanded workout time with me as soon as I returned. Mostly because they wanted to hear the doctor’s prognosis.

As the youngest of four children I was used to being called the baby and treated like one. My siblings were high achievers: Brady—my oldest brother—was CFO of Lund Industries, the family business that grossed several billion dollars each year. My brother Walker had started his own construction company. My sister, Annika, was the VP of PR for Lund Industries. All of them, along with my parents and other assorted Lund family members, had supported me throughout my college football years and when I’d gotten drafted into the pros.

I’d lived my dream. I’d made a name for myself by hard work and dedication to training and learning everything about the sport of football. But what other skills did I have?

Yeah, that was another question I still didn’t have an answer to.

This early in the Twin Cities, traffic wasn’t bad so I made it to Brady’s place in decent time. My brother lived in an old warehouse he’d had renovated several years ago before the area had become super trendy. He’d installed a gym that boasted every amenity, so I loved working out here, but I’ll admit since Brady had married Lennox, I didn’t just show up as often as I used to.

I punched in the code at the gate and followed the driveway to the private parking lot. Walker’s big rig pulled in beside my ZR1 and he waited for me as I finished my energy drink.

Walker grinned and yanked me into a back-slapping hug. “The prodigal son, home at last.”

“Prodigal son, my ass.” I topped my brother by three inches and fifty pounds and he still managed to make me feel little. “You’re the son whose wife is carrying the first Lund grandchild. If anyone is golden, bro, it’s you.”

“It’s a strange turn of events for me to be the first one to do something in this family.”

“How’s Trinity feeling?”

“Oddly calm. We’re four months in and she hasn’t freaked out once. Not even when she felt the baby move.”

“Maybe she’s saving the freak-out for the delivery room.”

“Bite your tongue,” Walker warned. “Any time women bring up delivery room horror stories, I bolt.”

“No talking about babies,” Brady said as we reached him, leaning against the steel door, a mug in his hand. He drained the contents and pulled me into a hug. “Glad you’re here, Jens.”

“You’d think since you’re both the big bosses at your respective jobs we could’ve waited until six A.M. to meet up.”

Brady ruffled my hair. Like I was five. “Need extra beauty sleep, pretty boy?”

“Piss off.”

“Maybe he had a beauty in his bed and he didn’t want to leave,” Walker suggested slyly.

I snorted. “I spent all day yesterday in airports. Only thing I wanted to do in my bed last night was sleep.”

Brady’s was the only gym I’d been in that didn’t smell like a gym. I crossed over to throw my can in the trash. Then I took a mat off the stack and unfolded it on the floor. I grabbed a thick foam roller and a couple of leg bands and sat on the mat with my right foot pressed against the wall.

Both Brady and Walker were silent, so I cranked my head around to look at them. “What?”

“We’re not going to talk about it at all?” Brady said. “We’re just getting straight to the workout?”

“That is why I’m here,” I pointed out. “Besides, I have specific stretching exercises I have to do first and it takes a while.”

“Does it help?”

“Yep.”

I focused my weight training on my arms, chest and core. I’d been in therapy for a year and could perform the leg workout in my sleep. But I was superstitious enough not to get cocky and screw something up before my official meeting with the coaching staff later today.

Watching Walker and Brady sparring reminded me that Walker was no challenge for Brady, whereas Brady and I were evenly matched. But I also knew better than to get inside the ring. One wrong twist of my foot and I’d be back where I started.

After we finished, we took a breather on the benches by the water station and I studied my brothers.

Walker patted his beard with a towel and then wiped the back of his neck below his man bun. Brady mopped his stubble, which would be gone by the time he donned his suit and tie and entered the Lund Industries corporate offices. He was the only kid who had inherited Dad’s dark hair. Walker, Annika and I were all blond like Mom. So it cracked me up that Walker considered himself the black sheep of the family. That title should’ve gone to Brady just on looks alone.

“Why you studying us like you haven’t seen us in months, bro?”

I met Brady’s curious stare. “Just thinking about hair color and wondering what color Walker’s kid will have. I’m hoping for a fiery-ass red with a temper to match.”

“I don’t care if he’s bald as a cue ball or has orange-colored clown hair, just as long as he’s healthy and my wife isn’t at risk.”

My bottle of water stopped halfway to my mouth. “He? You found out the sex?”

Walker grinned. “Just last week. We’re having a boy.”

“Congrats, man. That is awesome.” I looked at Brady. “You and Lennox catch baby fever yet?”

“No.” He picked at the label on his water bottle. “I mean, yes, we’ve discussed starting our family. I imagine we’ll get closer to that when baby T-Dub makes his appearance.”

“T-Dub? Dude. That’s a lame mash-up name. Wal-Trin is totally better.”

“Wal-Trin?” Brady said with a snort. “That sounds like a discount cold medicine.”

Ignoring him, I said to Walker, “Please promise me Brady won’t get in on the baby-naming pool.”

“Maybe if you and Lennox wait too long, the newlyweds will beat you in the baby race,” Walker teased Brady.

“First of all: Piss off.”

Walker and I grinned at each other and bumped fists. Getting Brady riled up was always entertaining.

“Second, Annika said she’s not ready to share her time with Axl yet.” He cocked an eyebrow at me. “Now as the only singleton in our family, you should be worried that Mom’s started her campaign to marry you off.”

“It’s already under way. Before I left for Florida she tried to set me up with this ‘cute as a muffin’ nurse.”

Brady and Walker exchanged a look. Then Walker said, “Mom doesn’t know about your three dating rules?”

“Seriously? Like I’d give Mom that kind of leverage? Hell no.”

“So we’re the only ones who know that the first thing to keep The Rocket from asking a woman out on a date is if her status is a single mother?” Walker said.

“Bite me,” I ground out.

“The second thing is no cheerleaders,” Brady added.

“And the third no-go . . . no health care professionals,” Walker finished.

“Those rules have served me well,” I argued. “So I’ll stick with them.”

“Until you meet a woman you want to nail who violates one of those rules and the Jensen Lund rule book will go right out the window.”

“Wrong. I made those rules my sophomore year of college. I haven’t broken a rule yet.”

“Never?” Brady said.

“Never.”

Walker raised both eyebrows. “No shit?”

“No shit.”

“Props for sticking with it, but explain to me where these rules came from,” Brady said.

“No single moms became rule number one after I saw what my buddy Bentley went through. He met this chick in class, asked her out, she kept turning him down because she had a kid. He had it bad for her and hounded her until she said yes. Once they got involved, he found out she had an asshole baby daddy and she worked two jobs to stay in school. Then Bentley started missing class to take care of the kid for her. He ended up dropping out. Then she dumped his ass six months later. He went through all that shit for nothing. So I’ll pass.”

“I get that seeing your buddy’s life upended at age twenty would sour you,” Walker said. “But this no-cheerleaders rule . . . What’s that about?”

“In high school and college if I dated a cheerleader and we broke up—which we always did—I still had to see her at every game and team event. Then the rest of the cheerleaders on the squad hated me on her behalf. They were one collective mind in separate bodies. In the pros there are no-fraternization rules between the cheerleaders and the players.”

“That’s archaic,” Walker said. “And probably illegal. I’d get my ass sued if I tried to tell my office manager Betsy who she could date outside working hours.”

“It is what it is and it makes things easier for me.”

“I agree with Dubbya, which is why Lund Industries doesn’t have that kind of asinine rule in the employee handbook,” Brady added. “It doesn’t make sense. But your no-health-care-professionals edict doesn’t really make sense either.”

I scrubbed my hands over my face. “Look, I’m a football player. My body takes a beating on a regular basis. Nurses, massage therapists, fitness trainers, even yoga instructors, try to diagnose me if I mention an ache or pain. Like I should listen to her over what the team’s medical staff is telling me? Then I take a blast of shit when I don’t follow through with her advice. It leads to drama, and I don’t do drama. And I definitely don’t go against my professional trainers’ recommendations. So I avoid the hassle by just saying no to that entire profession.”

They both stared at me.

“For chrissake, what now?”

“That is actually a smart list, Jens.”

I tried—and failed—not to take that as a backhanded compliment. “Surprised that I use my brain for more than memorizing plays and random chicks’ phone numbers?”

Brady held up his hands. “Whoa. Defensive much?”

“Maybe I am.” I squirted water in my mouth. “I’m sure the ‘where do we hide Jensen in the family business’ issue has come up if I’m released from the team. Unlike Jax, who’s been assured there’s always a place for him at LI when he’s done with hockey, I’ve never gotten that same promise from you, or the uncles, or even Ash and Nolan.”

Walker sucked in a breath. “That was harsh, Jens.”

“It’s true.” I pointed my water bottle at him. “He’s not denying it.”

Brady leveled his CFO stare at me that sent his minions at LI running for the exit.

I managed to stay put.

“Shifting the responsibility of your future after football onto LI? Dick move, bro. Especially since you’ve refused to tell anyone what postfootball career options you’re considering.”

“It isn’t like you haven’t had time to think about it while you’ve been recuperating,” Walker said. “There’s no shame in admitting you don’t have a fucking clue.”

I closed my eyes and tamped down my temper. “Sorry. It’s not your problem . . . I don’t know what I’ll do if the team cuts me. I’ve been superstitious that if I seriously consider postcareer options right now, the universe will see it as I’ve given up on my football career and it’ll be over.” I opened my eyes and looked at Walker first and then Brady. “I’m not ready to even think about moving on.”

“Although that sounds like the cosmic-consequences stuff that Dallas believes in, I do understand where you’re coming from.” Brady kept his gaze on me. “My door is always open to you when you are ready to talk about a career change, okay?”

“Okay.” I’d dreaded this conversation, taking the “it’s all good” tack whenever anyone brought it up. So color me relieved it was over—for now.

Walker and I gathered our stuff and said good-bye to Brady. Outside, Walker paused by my ZR1 before he headed to his truck. “What’s going on in your world this week?”

“Dante and I are meeting with the coaching staff today. He’s giving them the full report from my week in checkup hell. I have rehab training every day. Besides that, not much. What about you?”

“We’re slammed with renovations and we’re turning down more work than ever. Jase and I discussed expanding, but we’re clearing substantial profits as it is. For him, an increased workload would take time away from Tiffany and their baby girl Jewel. Given what he’s been through to finally have a family, money isn’t a driving force for him. For me either. I want to be with Trinity and baby T-Dub as much as possible.” He grinned. “So I’m an old married dude content to spend my weekends puttering around and being at my pregnant wife’s beck and call.”

I clapped him on the shoulder. “It’s what you’ve always wanted, so I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks. Swing by and have a beer this week.”

“I’ll take you up on that.”

I drove home and felt no guilt whatsoever crawling back in bed for a few hours. At least if I was sleeping I wasn’t obsessing over what would happen during my lunch meeting with the guys who held my football future in their hands.