The Baller: A Down and Dirty Football Novel(46)

After class was over, the women circled Brody asking for autographs. He gloated, thinking he was getting a rise out of me, but truly I found the entire thing amusing and was pretty damn proud that jealousy hadn’t reared its ugly head. When the crowd thinned, we headed to the door . . . but not before I stopped to talk to the instructor.

“Hey, Alex.”

“Pretzel. Nice surprise seeing you in this location today.” Alex’s typical flirtatious banter was muted. He glanced at Brody.

“This is Brody Easton. An old family friend.”

Brody squinted at me as he shook Alex’s hand. That little bit of information, indirect confirmation that the man standing next to me wasn’t my boyfriend, was all it took to relax Alex. “Nice to meet you, Brody. You two go way back, huh?”

“Apparently so.”

“Tell me, was our little Pretzel always this smokin’ hot?”

The air chilled instantly. Brody glared at Alex, who didn’t even seem to notice since he went right on adding gunpowder to the cannon.

“Your downward-facing dog still needs to open up a little. Why don’t you stick around a few minutes and let me help you stretch into it?”

“That sounds like a good idea.” I turned to Brody and cheerily stoked the fire I smelled burning. “Why don’t you go on to the locker room and Alex can help me with my positioning? I’ll catch up with you out front.”

Brody tried so hard, but Alex’s dirty leer was too much to handle.

“Fuck this.” His hand possessively gripped my waist. “You win. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Alex looked confused as Brody quickly steered me toward the locker room. “Very cute,” he growled.

“I thought so.”

Leaving the gym, I taunted Brody about my win. “I would have thought you’d be stiff competition. Guess not.”

“I’ll give you stiff . . . ” He took my hand.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for the jealous type.”

“Me either,” he grumbled.

“I have to grab a quick shower and head to the station. We have a late-morning planning meeting. They’re adding a few last-minute interviews with some of the Eagles players before this weekend’s game.”

“Meeting with the enemy. You trying to kill me? First Yogi-Asshole and now spending time with the division rivalry. I think I need a little extra attention tonight. I’m feeling neglected.”

“Oh, are you now?”

“Yep. I think I need you to show me how special I am.”

“And what exactly would that entail?”

“I’ll think of something. When I do, I’ll be sure to text you the details while you’re in the middle of your meeting.” The man’s wicked tongue translated well even in texting.

We turned the corner, heading down the block where Marlene lived. Brody was telling me about his schedule for the rest of the week when he suddenly went quiet. It took me a moment to catch up. “Brody?”

He was staring across the street.

“Everything okay?”

The streets of New York were bustling. At first, I didn’t notice anything. But then I saw her. A woman had stopped outside of Marlene’s building and was staring in our direction. People came and went, but she just stood there, fixated on us.

She was absolutely gorgeous. Model-waif thin with long blond hair and eyes so big, I noticed them across a busy street. My heart sank. I knew the answer but asked anyway. “Do you know that woman across the street?”

Brody turned his head face-forward and kept walking. “Yes. That’s Willow.”

And just like that, the confidence I’d felt earlier—the feeling of empowerment—turned into fear and vulnerability. And, yes, even a little jealousy.





Chapter 23


Willow

“That pretty face should never have an upside-down smile.” My grandmother was losing her memory, lived in a nursing home, and had addicts for her sole surviving kin, and yet here she was, trying to cheer me up.

I forced a smile. “Sorry.”

“You and Brody have a fight?”

Brody had apparently not filled Grams in on the last few years. I wasn’t sure why or what that meant, but I went along with it. “No. We’re good.” I took Grandma’s hand and squeezed.

“Good. That boy is a keeper. They don’t make ’em like him too often anymore. Reminds me of my Carl in some ways.”

“Really?” It was the first time Grams had spoken of Pop Pop. I had no idea if she remembered he was gone or not. Her memory was so random and selective.

“Yep. That boy is loyal. He fell hard for you and never got back up. Same way my Carl did for me.”

She was right about one thing—Brody was loyal. Probably the most loyal person I’d ever come across in my entire life. But even the most loyal person had their breaking point. Seeing him on the street today reminded me of that. I hadn’t expected him to be waiting around for me all these years. Not after everything I’d done to him. But what I saw today had been hard to see anyway. He’d looked happy. Holding a woman’s hand in public. I should have been happy for him. But what I should do and what I actually did had never been the same.

I spent another two hours with Grams. She enjoyed the company and, honestly, I loved being around her. She was my root, made me feel grounded when I otherwise would spin out of control.