The Game Plan (Game On, #3)(41)

My mother. Her cultured, crisp English voice is both soothing and annoying. Soothing because it’s mom, the woman who held me when I cried, tucked me into bed every night until I was fourteen. Annoying because she is never frazzled. She is perfect. Oh, I know she has her failings, but to me, she’ll always be stunning and cool, not a blond hair ever out of place.

“Hey, mum. I’m fine.”

“You sound like you’re face down in bed.”

Close enough. I sit up and smooth my hair back from my face. “Bad connection. I’m at work.”

“Lovely. I’ve been meaning to tell you how proud I am of you for landing that position. I couldn’t be happier, Fiona.”

Right. A ragged breath gets caught in my chest. “Thanks.”

“And you know, if you keep at it, soon you’ll have your own design firm.”

She’s being encouraging. But I know her enough to hear the slightly desperate tone under it all: Please, Fiona, keep at it. Don’t quit this time.

I heard the same tone every time I changed my major. Every time I asked to learn an instrument or join a dance class. I can’t even blame her, because I quit all of those classes and camps, usually just a few days into them.

Grimacing, I turn my chair away from the open office space and face the window.

My mom keeps chattering. “And how were Ivy and Gray? And my little poppet?”

“All fine and well. Leo is getting bigger.” And louder.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Mom had been there for the birth and instantly became a doting grandmum—as she insists on being called. “I tell you, he has my eyes.”

I can’t help but laugh. “Mom, his eyes are blue.”

Hers are green like mine.

“All babies’ eyes are blue. His will turn. And they look like mine.”

Anyone can see that Leo has Gray’s eyes. Down to the exact shade of blue. But I don’t argue. “How’s the business?” I ask instead. My mom owns a chain of bakeries. Ivy was supposed to go into partnership with her but chose to be an agent like our dad instead.

I don’t know who was more shocked by that—Mom, Dad, or me. Ivy hated how Dad’s business pulled him away from our family almost as much as I did. Yet here we are, Ivy as an agent and, hell, me falling for a football player.

As my mom talks about her shops, the image of Dex’s grin—so rare but so gorgeous, framed by his lush, dark beard—pops into my mind. My palms tingle with the need to run over it, to smooth over the massive swell of his hard, hot chest.

I swallow and focus on Mom. She’s telling me about a yeast delivery gone bad, her voice breathy with exasperation, and I blink hard. I miss her. I miss Dex. I miss everyone.

I clutch my phone, feeling lost and abandoned, which is ridiculous. No one has left me behind. I’m here because it’s where I chose to be. This is life. Like some messed-up game of Boggle, it shakes us all up, and we land where we fall.

This isn’t even close to the first time I’ve felt this way. But usually I’m able to distract myself with friends and parties and laughter. Only I can’t find it in me to laugh anymore. And I wonder if this is the only way life can be. Because I want some f*cking control back.





Chapter Nineteen





Dex



“Look, it’s Sinatra!” Delgado, my fellow lineman, shouts when I walk into the locker room.

I’m greeted with a rousing chorus of “Gold on the Ceiling,” all of it off-key and loud. I’d been informed by a cackling Gray that video of my karaoke performance had gone viral. If that hadn’t been enough, the ESPN highlight, complete with accompanying jokes, made it clear I’d get my fair share of shit come Monday morning.

“Yeah, yeah,” I wave an idle hand. “Laugh it up, fuzzballs.”

Sampson, a nose tackle, makes an attempt to roar like Chewbacca but ends up choking, which cracks the guys up even more.

Grinning, I sit down and kick off my shoes. Finn Mannus, my QB, saunters over, a smile wide on his face. He gives my shoulder a hearty slap. “So, Dexter, have a good week off?”

“Say what you’re gonna say, Manny, and f*ck off,” I tell him lightly.

He’s still grinning at me like a smug f*ck. “I must say, I enjoy seeing you hang your balls out, Dex. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“Pretty sure there’s a lot you don’t know about me.” I’ve stripped down to get in my gear when I catch his eye. He’s no longer smug but serious.

“That’s kind of the point,” he says. “You’re my center.”

His words give me pause. I like Finn. He’s a rookie, which especially sucks for him because he has to carry the team without the freedom to ease into his job. But he’s also a good quarterback, and it’s my job to protect him. But I don’t know him like I know Drew. I haven’t taken the time. Guilt tilts in my belly.

“Come out for a beer with me later,” I suggest. “And I’ll tell you all about my wild week.”

He looks at me with those famous baby blues that have women all over America sighing and throwing their panties in his direction. Doesn’t do anything for me, but I’m comfortable enough in my manhood to see what chicks dig about him. I guess I’m doomed to always cover pretty boys.