Quarterback Sneak (Red Zone Rivals #3)(85)

“Sometimes when I hold you like this, I’m still not sure if it’s a dream or not,” I admitted.

“I feel that way sometimes, too.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “I was a fucking mess without you. I never want to feel that way again.”

“Me either,” I confessed. “There were so many times I wanted to call you, to share something with you. Like when I had Christmas with my mom.”

“I’m really glad you two are talking again.”

I snuggled into him. “Me, too. It’s kind of scary but… in a good way. I understand her more now. And I think she understands me, too.”

“I think she just loves me, and therefore you by proxy.”

I rolled my eyes. “She’s met you one time.”

“And she adored me. She hasn’t stopped talking about me to you since.”

“Jeez, am I going to have to watch my back for my mom stealing you away?”

“Your dad would really hate me then.”

I pinched his side, and he laughed, wiggling away from me before he rolled over and pinned me in the sheets.

“You’re the only one for me and you know it.”

“Doesn’t mean I don’t like to hear it.”

“I’ll tell you as many times as you want,” he promised. “Again and again until you’re sick of it. Until you’re sick of me.”

I just smiled and kissed him and laughed to myself.

Because I knew in my heart that day would never come.

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Three Months Later

Holden



It was just barely beginning to warm up in Boston when draft day rolled around. Spring had come, but not barreling in as we’d all hoped. It was soft, quiet, but promising.

Even so, I’d stripped down to my athletic shorts and a t-shirt, and my Uncle Kevin watched me with an amused smile as I leaned against the edge of the kitchen island, pretending like I was calm. The Lions had just used their fifth pick on a defensive lineman from Hawaii.

I checked my phone just to make sure it was charged — it was, ninety-seven percent. I’d had it plugged in most of the day just in case. I’d also had Uncle Kevin do the same, since his was my backup number.

“Relax,” he told me as he passed by with a refreshed plate of artisanal cheese, meat, and bread. “You’ll get a call.”

“I know,” I said, but the truth was I didn’t know — not for sure. I hoped. And if the analysts I’d been listening to for the past week and a half had any idea of what was going on, they assumed, too.

Everyone pegged me for a first-round pick.

We just didn’t know when in the first round.

I already had a hunch that it wouldn’t be in the first five. None of those teams needed a quarterback. But as we rounded toward the sixth pick, my palms started sweating. The Tampa Bay Buccaneers were in the market for a QB, and I swore my phone burned in my pocket as I willed it to ring.

“Hey there, brother.”

I startled when Clay squeezed my shoulders with his massive hands, rounding the island to slide next to me. He offered me a beer, and even though I didn’t really want it, I took it just so I’d have something to do.

“I can’t believe you’re going pro.”

“We don’t know that yet.”

He gave me a look with flat lips. “Just promise me you’ll come back for my senior year championship game.”

“Back-to-back wins, huh?”

“You doubt us?”

I shrugged, tonguing my cheek. “I don’t know. Without me?” I whistled through my teeth, and Leo socked me in the arm as he came up on the other side of where we stood.

“You forget that it’s me who was your secret weapon these past few years,” he teased.

“Neither of you would have even had a chance if it weren’t for my returns,” Zeke piped in, tapping his beer bottle against mine.

Riley came up right behind him rolling her eyes. “And you’re all so modest, to boot.”

Zeke smirked, tucking her under his arm and kissing her temple as they returned to the living room and plopped down on the couch right in front of the food. Giana was in the corner of the room beside the TV making sure her cameraman was set up with the proper angle to capture our celebration if a call came in.

When, I tried to chastise myself, but my stomach was tight even as I did.

Coach Lee and Coach Hoover were both in the living room, too. Even Julep’s mom had flown out for the occasion, and the pair of them sat on the loveseat, each of them holding a glass of wine. They were laughing about something, and I didn’t care what it was because all that mattered to me was that Julep and her mom were laughing at all.

On the television, the commissioner took the stage, and everyone quieted.

Not so subtly, eyes floated to me, for my reaction.

If it was me they had picked, I would have had a call. I casually checked my phone just to make sure I hadn’t missed anything.

I hadn’t.

“With the fifth pick in the NFL draft, the Tampa Bay Buccaneers select…” He paused for dramatic effect. “Bernie Hoffman, Iowa Central.”

The crowd in Vegas was a mix of cheers and boos, all in good fun as usual during the draft. I forced a smile as the quarterback out of Iowa Central took the stage. They’d asked me if I wanted to fly out to Vegas, too, just in case I was picked early on — but I’d elected to stay here in Boston with my team.