My Only Reason (A Love is Love Book Book 1)

by Leigh Lennon

  “I thought you’d be swimming?” Garrison begins, trying to jump-start a conversation.

  “Yeah, it’s cooler today. It’s nice to just sit outside without sweating my balls off.” Both Ryder and Garrison begin to giggle like little girls.

  “Classy, Ry,” he counters. “Well, what do you want to do for dinner?” He leans forward to look at me. “Are you staying, Crush?” he asks.

  “Nah, actually, I better go. Give you two some time alone.” I push up from the pool, turning my head slightly to Garrison. “Good meeting you.” It’s all I say before making my way out of the house.

  “Crush, wait a second,” Ryder calls. He’s behind me, but he doesn’t reach me until I pull at the driver’s door of my truck. “Christopher Colton,” he calls to get my attention.

  “What?” I twist around, searching his face, my reply a little louder than I mean it to be.

  “Are you mad? And could you seriously have been more rude to Garrison? Shit, if you only knew how much he idolizes you.”

  I blow out a large sigh and pull at my chin. “Nah, man, what would I have against Garrison?” I know exactly what I have against him.

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. You know, Garrison and I are what we need from each other. It’s not a commitment. I care for him, but what you see is all we’ll ever be. And he knows this.” Ry’s eyes are large, as I remember them being when he’s passionate about something.

  “So what is it to me?” I ask.

  “And the thing is…if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were jealous,” Ryder explains.

  I open the door and step up on the foot rail to hoist my big body into my truck. “Remember, these lips are off-limits to you, pretty boy.”

  I lie through my teeth, but my need to put space between Ryder and myself is so great right now.

  “Glad to know you can still be the asshole I remember.” His lips pull at the corners into what I’d coin the most breathtaking smile he’s imparted on me since coming back into my life.

  “Yeah, it’s a constant in this ever-changing world, pretty boy.”

  I shut the door, and as I turn my head back, I can sense his eyes on me. I leave without another glance and return to my very lonely home.

  7

  Ryder

  Practice is relatively easy all week. The changes in team workouts have me worn out, and by the end of the day, I’m drained. But I’m catching Crush’s throws, and more importantly, he’s gotten his damn head back in the game.

  After five more days of practice, the weekend is upon me. The coach calls me into his office, wearing a grin the size of the sun. The man is known for many things, but smiling like a Cheshire cat is not one of them. “Listen, Hanley, I won’t keep you,” he says, pushing from his desk, “but whatever the hell you and Colton worked out, keep it up. He’s a completely different man, and fuck, you two out there on the field together—it’s something of beauty.”

  “Thanks, Coach. I’ll see what I can do to make it continue,” I reply.

  “Yeah, don’t fuck it up.” His mean as a rattlesnake expression returns to his face, and giving a curt nod, we part ways.

  Leaving the office quickly, I find the locker room has cleared out. Even Crush is gone. And though we are working flawlessly, the carefree nature we had forged over last weekend seems to have dissipated after he visited when Garrison was there.

  He’s acting like a jealous girlfriend, and I’m confused. I’ve never had a girl of my own, or someone who has become so territorial. However, I’d witnessed enough of Alison’s fits during college that I certainly can identify one.

  On this Friday night, my mind is only on getting home, ordering a steak, and doing nothing but maybe playing a little Call of Duty. “Hey, fucker,” a familiar voice calls out to me. Leaning against my car with his arms folded is the person my thoughts are always on.

  “Hey, asshole. Are you over your little tantrum from last week?”

  He cocks his head to the side, furrowing his brows my way. “What are you talking about?”

  I purse my lips together. “Yeah, okay, if this is the story you’re sticking to, we can pretend it never happened.” And when I give him a wink, his face reddens. He turns his head to the side, breaking contact. “So besides putting a dent in my car, what are you doing?”

  “I’m about to pick up Brooklyn for the night. Al needs time to herself. It’s so kind of her to let me have my child when she needs to get some.” There’s a dry humor in his voice. “So, I was going to order steaks and play Candy Land until she passes out. Want to join us for the evening? I mean, you kick my ass at Call of Duty, I can kick your ass at Chutes and Ladders.”

  “There’s only one problem with spending the evening with you and your little girl,” I explain.

  “And what’s that?” he asks.

  “I’m almost positive I’ll like Brooklyn a fuck ton more than I like you.”

  He rewards me with the middle finger. “Probably. She’s very lovable, but so am I, pretty boy. Don’t go forgetting this little fact,” Crush jests.

  Ah hell, in all the years we’ve been apart, I’ve never forgotten this.

  Having already showered in the locker room, I follow him as he picks up his daughter, then head to his home. I stay a couple of houses down when Crush pulls into Alison’s driveway. Brooklyn looks more like Crush with her blond hair than Alison’s darker features. Her house is pretty nice, and I’m sure it’s a result of their divorce settlement. Crush would never leave his daughter destitute or without a safe home.

  Pulling into his neighborhood—a gated community, he keeps it open longer in order for me to pass through. It’s a very exclusive part of town, more so than where my new digs are. But these homes are more traditional, and it doesn’t surprise me with Crush and his country boy ways that he gravitates toward this style.

  I park next to him, and Brooklyn jumps from the back cab of the truck. “Hey, I remember you. Pops say you his bet friend.”

  I love how little kids talk. Loretta is the same way. I kneel in front of her. “And I remember you. It’s Brittany, right?”

  She begins to giggle. “No.”

  I tap my chin. “Oh, darn it, let me think. Bailey, correct?”

  With her high-pitched giggles, she continues, “No silly, that not my name.”

  “Wait, I remember now. It’s Brooklyn?”

  “Yeah, you got it. And you Ryda. I smarter than you.”

  Crush is behind his daughter, the pride of this man coming through in droves at the sight of Brooklyn with me.

  “You’re most definitely right. And, I heard we’re playing Candy Land or Chutes and Ladders. I bet you’ll beat both your pops and me.”

  “Yeah, I always kick butt,” she announces, so much like her arrogant father.

  “All right, missy, let’s not get carried away.” He scoops her up with one hand, and she giggles all the way into his home.

  It’s a traditional brick house with a large front porch holding two rocking chairs and is as southern as sweet tea and pecan pie. Entering through the door, I find myself standing in a two-story foyer looking at a grand staircase showcased by a wrought-iron banister. It’s different than mine and not modern at all. Brooklyn starts running and bounces on the large sectional couch taking up the great room. His furnishings are manly but warm at the same time. Where I’m a minimalist, Crush has a plethora of knickknacks and pictures. Mainly pictures of Brooklyn at every stage of life. It’s obvious his house, like mine, is professionally designed, but the amount of stuff in his home would drive me nuts. It fits him, and it’s comfortable.

  “I watch Barbie movie, please, Pops?” she pleads.

  His attention swings to me. “I tell you what, man, you haven’t lived until you’ve watched a Barbie movie.” He points at the couch with his sit your ass down sort of stare, then turns on the movie. He surprises me when he doesn’t sit next to Brooklyn, but sidles up near my body about a foot away. I love his proximity, more than
I’m allowed to, but man, it’s like being led into a candy store, only to be told I can’t buy anything.

  “There goes an hour of my life I’ll never get back,” I whisper to Crush as the credits roll on the Three Musketeers’ movie, starring Barbie. Brooklyn is still singing along to the songs as if she’s seen this particular movie several times. Crush is near me. I could reach my hand out and touch him if I wanted to, and fuck do I want to. Crush doesn’t respond, only gives me the sexiest chuckle, and it does something to my cock as I attempt to keep my half-mast from poking out of my athletic shorts.

  “Peanut, are you ready for dinner?” It’s the question he asks his daughter, who has now taken over the entire side of the sectional with a blanket covering her small body.

  “Yeah, Pops. You promise steak and taters. Right?”

  I begin to howl. “She’s your daughter through and through, Christopher Colton.”

  Brooklyn laughs. “He calls you by full name too, like Mommy, but Mommy always mad at you. But he sweet, not mad.”

  I swing my gaze to Crush. His face flushes, and he doesn’t make eye contact, but Brooklyn’s little observation sends both sadness and joy through my body. I’d never disrespect Christopher like Alison does. It hurts me to see the way she still treats this man I’d move heaven and earth for.

  Plus, I know Crush never wants to bad-mouth the bitch in front of his daughter, and I respect this. I attempt to bury my laughter. And Crush ignores her comment, brushing over it.

  “Okay, sweetie, what kind of steak would you like?” I find this question odd for an almost five-year-old girl.

  “Um, I’m in the mood for a flay-manon.”

  I search her seriousness when I swing my face back to Crush. “Did your four-year-old just ask for a filet mignon?”

  With a proud expression crawling onto his face, he replies, “Yep, I’ve taught her well.” He pulls his laptop out, placing an order, knowing my request. “And I’m already teaching her how to be a quarterback, right, peanut?”

  “Yeppers. Just ’cause I’m a girl, don’t mean I don’t play football like Pops.” Her smile mimics her dad’s, and it’s a precious sight. “Okay, I gets to kicks you alls booties,” she calls, running to a closet, then coming back to us with Chutes and Ladders in her hands.

  “Dude, when she’s seventeen, she’s going to be just like you, keeping you on your toes like you did with your parents.” I hadn’t known Crush then, only by reputation as an up-and-coming quarterback, but from the stories he’s told me about his teen years, I have a feeling payback will be awful for him.

  “What are you talking about? It started the minute she was born.” His dimples are just as sexy as they were when he was eighteen. “Mom and Dad can’t wait until I get my payback.”

  I’m following the bossy little girl to the dark wood dining room table with comfortable seats. Unlike the modern plastic chairs around my table. “How are your mom and dad? And your brothers?”

  “Yeah, Mom and Dad, they were truly fudged with three crazy boys in the house,” he says, when Brooklyn eyes him.

  “I know what that means. It’s actually f—”

  He covers her mouth. “Okay, missy, enough out of you.”

  She stands next to the table with her hands on her hips. “Then sit your booties down and we play, now.”

  My gaze falls on Crush’s, the crystal blue of his eyes the same ones I remember getting lost in before I let my secret come out to him. “Yeah, I know,” he says before I can tell him how truly fudged he really is.

  “So, about my brothers—Sawyer is divorced but has two girls he adores. They’re just as sassy as this one, but he still jumps out of planes for a living. And he’s a hell of a dad. His wife wasn’t cut out for the military, but she’s a good woman.”

  “Unca Sawyer jump out of planes?”

  Crush’s interactions with his daughter are priceless as he sits down next to her, and I follow suit, sitting across from them.

  “Yeah, he helps to protect our country. Remember me telling you this?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  It’s not a surprise to find he’s a Navy SEAL, and it suits him. “But yeah, he’s happy. And the baby of the family, Jesse, is in medical school.”

  Getting the rundown on the Colton family makes me almost forget the many years I’ve not been a part of his life. “Mom and Dad will be here in a couple of weeks for Brooklyn’s birthday.”

  At the mention of her birthday, her eyes widen. “You come to my party, Ryda? I turns five.”

  How could I ever say no to this little princess, and I don’t when I reply, “Of course, sweetheart, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.” This is when I silently pledge to Crush I’ll never not be a part of his life again.

  “Pops, I need wata,” she calls out five minutes after Crush reads her a story. A frustrated huff leaves his mouth as he grabs her cup on the end table and walks heavy, in aggravation to her room.

  He’s back at the couch, sitting down, and he’s as close as he was during the movie. A question about her nighttime routine is on my tongue when her little voice fills the room again. “Pops, my leg hurt.”

  He pushes to his feet, and I hear him praying for her boo-boo. A sheepish smile covers his face as he falls back on the couch near me again, so close I can appreciate his cologne, when she calls for him yet again.

  “Excuse me, I’m going to have to use my authoritative dad voice.” He turns around, popping his head into her room. “Brooklyn Christine, no more!” His voice dips deep, and in his command, my poor cock, which is always alive around him, pushes against my track shorts, doing nothing to hide my erection. “Now, go to bed, honey. I don’t want you to get in trouble. I love you.”

  When he spins around, I’ve shifted on the couch to grab a pillow as though I’m snuggling with something in order to hide my apparent jovial member. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

  “So, is this what bedtime is like every night?”

  He shakes his head. “She is pushing me tonight because there’s company, and she thinks there’s free rein, but with her mom, this normally goes on for hours. Alison has called me to put Brooklyn to bed.”

  “You drive to Alison’s to put her to bed?” I’m dumbfounded by this.

  He shakes his head. “I have in the past, but now I tell Al to get a fucking backbone and punish her, and maybe she’d learn her lesson—so she’s not asked me in a while.”

  “Wow,” I begin as he moves his stance, placing part of his leg on the couch, less than a foot from me.

  “So, tell me about you and Garrison.” There’s no damn segue or anything. He just throws it out there.

  I’m not sure what to make out of this. “Um, I told you, we are what we need. I care for Garrison, and if he were to find something more serious, with someone who could give him a forever, I’d wish him luck and would hope for an invitation to the wedding.”

  Crush’s lips straighten, and I can’t figure out if he’s happy or upset. “So, you don’t see yourself with someone forever?”

  I take in a long inhale. “I’d like a child or two. I’d like someone who’s home when I get home, and someone who’s in my bed every night, but it’s not Garrison. He needs a man who’s willing to give up a career for him. I’m not doing this, and I’m not asking him to, either. He’s one of my closest friends, and we’re great together. We just happen to have great out of this world sex. It’s more than friends with benefits, but it’s not love. If all of this makes sense?”

  I don’t notice it at first, but his nostrils flare at my words. “Crush?” I’m not sure what I want to ask him. There’s a question in there with his weird behavior, but I don’t know what it is yet.

  “Yeah?” he asks, and he’s not figured out my silent question.

  “Why are you pissed off?”

  His posture changes, and in it, he stands, pacing back and forth in front of me, then disappears into the kitchen. I give him a second, and when he doesn’t reappear, I pop
my head around the corner, having grabbed my keys off his dining room table.

  “Hey, dude, I’m going to head out.” I’ll allow him to wallow in whatever shit he’s sorting through in his mind.

  He reappears with a couple of sodas in his hands, a completely different countenance on his face than just a couple of minutes ago. He’s composed and not the irrational hothead he’d been over the thought of me with another man. And when he hands me a Diet Coke, I sit back down and open the top.

  “I’m sad too, you know, right?” I ask, and this causes him to stop in mid sip.

  “What do you mean?” The crystal blue of his eyes collide with my own, and I’m pierced by his fixed gaze on me.

  “I’m sad your daughter doesn’t call me Unca Ryda, like she does your brother. I’m sad I wasn’t there the day she was born, to see you hold her tiny little body, and though it would have killed me, I wanted to be at your wedding, even to someone like Alison. And more so, I wish I could have thrown you an epic party on the day your divorce was final. And fuck, I wish I was there to help you when you caught her with another man. There’s so much regret I feel when it comes to you, so you feeling slighted you don’t know my significant other, though I wouldn’t call Garrison this, is something I understand.”

  He moves his body from mine, shifting to the side of the sectional where Brooklyn was sitting earlier, and I miss his proximity.

  “Yeah, bro, I guess you’re right. It’s a lot we have to make up for.” But the conviction in his voice doesn’t sound genuine.

  “I’m ten minutes away, so now we have no excuses when it comes to building back what we lost.” It’s all I know to say.

  His weak smile meets my own, and I know he’s keeping something from me. And all I can do is wait it out until he’s ready to share. Until then, I’m not giving up on him like I had before.

  8