by J. S. Scott
He blinked a few times fast then said, “In English, Peanut.”
“I’m looking for a job where not everyone is over forty. I want to make friends and date more.”
He nodded and looked me over. “That shouldn’t be hard. You’re adorable.”
I choked on a piece of bread. Adorable. I rolled my eyes skyward.
“But you shouldn’t choose a job by how likely it is to get you laid. You’re too smart for that.”
“Says the football player who just did a commercial in boxers,” I countered. I couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t turning eager women away.
“The underwear gig was a seven-figure contract,” he parried, then smiled again. “Besides, there’s only one woman in my future.” He checked his phone. “Did Hope say what time they’d be back?”
I shook my head. Technically, that was not a lie.
“I’m glad I had her come early. The snow was picking up and the roads were already slippery. The good thing about her being with Jack is I don’t have to worry if she’s okay.” He finished his sandwich, grabbed a bottle of water and said, “I’ll hit the shower then.”
He left without remembering to clean up, but I didn’t say anything. I sagged against the counter, feeling guilty and apprehensive. I tried to call Jack but got only his voicemail.
I had just finished rinsing the dishes when a towel clad Graham appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. His hair was still wet from the shower, and I could barely breathe as I took in the perfection of him.
His jovial mood from earlier was gone. He held up Hope’s engagement ring, and said, “I found this in the bathroom. Hope never takes it off.” He glared at me as if his mind was already running through all the possible explanations and not liking a single one of them. I was reasonably certain he hadn’t yet factored Jack into the equation. He looked confused and upset, but not as angry as he soon would be.
This time my heart did break for him. I wished there were a way to protect him from this, but that wasn’t an option.
I had two choices before me.
I could tell him the truth or I could lie.
CHAPTER 3
Graham
I never have been, and have never claimed to be a nice guy.
I’ve always been a complete and total prick, a trait I’d always hoped that Lauren would never discover, but I was just about to blow my cover and completely lose my shit.
Hope never took her ring off, so I knew something was wrong. I had good instincts, and they had never steered me wrong, especially when it came to playing football. Unfortunately, my gut reaction was fucking screaming that whatever was happening with Hope, it wasn’t good.
“Graham, I don’t know what to say,” Lauren said nervously.
“Tell me the truth,” I demanded, my teeth gritted to keep me from having a goddamn meltdown.
Lauren Swift, one of the two friends I’d trusted for way over a decade, didn’t lie to me, and I sure as hell didn’t want her to start doing it now. She and Jack had been the only real friends I’d ever had. They were like the family I’d never had.
Okay, technically, I did have some blood relatives, but none of them had ever wanted to claim me. I was okay with that because I didn’t like any of my living relatives, either, so it worked out well for us not to communicate.
I learned a long time ago that a blood connection didn’t mean much.
I watched as Lauren avoided eye contact and fidgeted with her glasses. Hell, that wasn’t a good sign. The only time she messed with them was when she was nervous.
“Hope is gone. Jack took her to the airport,” she blurted out. “She didn’t say, but I think the engagement is definitely off.”
The engagement is off? What. The. Fuck. There was no way Hope could be finished with me. The wedding invitations were in the mail. Everything was settled.
Hope had to marry me. She was part of my future plan. I was on track to finally be somebody. We’d had an agreement that worked for both of us. She couldn’t back out now.
Marrying Hope was going to be one more strategic move to have the life I’d always wanted. Making her my wife would prove that I’d taken one more step up in the world.
“She just…left?” I knew Lauren wasn’t telling me everything. “There has to be some reason why she split. We weren’t fighting. Nothing was wrong.”
Hope and I didn’t ever argue. I had no reason to get mad at her.
She was from a very wealthy, respected family.
She was a supermodel.
And we made no unrealistic demands on each other.
She did her modeling thing.
I did my football thing.
And when we were available, we’d get together as a couple.
Who wouldn’t want a marriage with somebody like Hope?
“She wasn’t angry,” Lauren confessed. “She was upset.”
“For God’s sake…why?” I loved Lauren like a sister, but I was starting to lose it.
Lauren finally stopped fidgeting and looked me in the eyes. “I can’t lie to you. I can’t.”
Oh, holy shit. She was staring at me with sympathy in her expression, and I hated that. I didn’t want pity. I never had. All I wanted was the truth. “If you’re really my friend, tell me what happened. I know that you know. I can see it written all over your face.”
I’d known Lauren since I was seven years old. Jack and I had met in elementary school, and had become fast friends, something I’d valued because I’d really had no friends. It had been a new school district for me when I’d met him. Luckily, I’d stayed in the same school district even though I’d changed foster homes more times than I could count after Jack and I had become friends, we’d been best buddies ever since.
I’d met Lauren one day at Jack’s house. Ben, Jack’s dad, had always been willing to go out of his way to come pick me up to play at their home, and Lauren had quickly become the second friend I could trust. Okay, maybe she was only all of four years old when we’d first met, but she’d already been attending a school for gifted kids.
I’d idolized her brilliant mind, and I’d adored the little girl who gave her affection so easily to a boy who had really never done anything to deserve it. In return, I’d made myself her protector when she was a kid. Strangely, I’d never really gotten away from that habit, even though I was now twenty-five and Lauren was twenty-two. We hadn’t seen each other in person much in the last seven years since I’d left for the East Coast after I’d graduated high school, but I still considered Lauren one of my best friends.
“Tell me everything,” I prompted, since Lauren still looked like she was considering the benefits and drawbacks of spilling her guts.
“She slept with somebody else, Graham. I’m so sorry.”
Lauren’s words hit me like a ton of bricks. “Not possible,” I told her in a defensive tone. “She’d never do that.”
Hope didn’t exactly burn red-hot when it came to sex. Sure, the sex was good, but she’d never been all that enthusiastic about mating like bunnies. Most of the time, she planned out our nights together, and it usually ended with sex. But it wasn’t down and dirty. I was okay with that since she was a woman I thought I needed to treat with respect.
“She did do it,” Lauren corrected. “I’m telling you the truth. I saw it myself, or I wouldn’t be telling you about it.”
Wait! Lauren saw it?
The only way that could work is if it had happened…here.
My brain really didn’t want to put together the facts. “Jack?” I asked hoarsely.
She nodded slowly. “Yes. I’m so sorry.”
I looked away from her remorseful face. “I’ll kill the bastard.”
I tossed the expensive diamond on the counter and walked back to the bathroom, slamming the door behind me.
Rage built
inside me, an over-the-top anger that I’d never completely been able to shake off. It had been there when I was a kid, and the only difference between my adolescence and now was that I had learned to control it.
Son of a bitch!!!
My fury was closely followed by the emotional pain of being betrayed by the one male friend I’d ever trusted to look after Hope when I wasn’t around.
I dug into the pocket of the jeans I’d left on the floor until I found my cell phone. I hit the buttons to call Jack, but he didn’t answer. It went to his voicemail.
“Goddammit!” I hurled my phone, enjoying the satisfying sound of the bathroom mirror shattering as I stood and watched the shards of glass explode all over the vanity and fall to the floor.
My chest was heaving and I felt like I couldn’t breathe. Jack was my friend. He’d been my best buddy all through school, and for every single year after that. Why in the hell would he sleep with my fiancée?
And why would Hope run around with Jack? He wasn’t even her type.
I lowered the lid of the toilet and sat my ass down, trying to make sense out of the surreal situation I was in.
I’d met Hope last year while I’d been playing for New England. I’d been a second-string quarterback with a chip on my shoulder. I’d barely been picked up in the draft after college because of a shoulder injury, and I had something to prove. All I’d needed was a chance…
I’d gotten the opportunity to prove myself when our starter went out with an injury. I’d played the best season of my life, which had opened doors everywhere. All of a sudden, I could pick my future team, and I’d gotten a ton of offers to become a starting quarterback in a bunch of different areas of the country. Coming back to Colorado to play for the Wildcats had been a logical choice for me since Lauren and Jack were both still living in Denver.
I’d wanted to be near somebody who gave a shit about me, and that meant moving back to Colorado to be with Lauren and Jack.
Honestly, it hadn’t hurt that the Cats had made the best offer. They’d made me a millionaire overnight, with more guaranteed income to be delivered over the next few years of my contract.
All kinds of lucrative side deals had also come my way—which was why I’d been doing commercials in purple boxer shorts. Hell, if somebody wanted to pay me a fortune to talk up their colorful underwear, I was all over that.
It figured that just when my life was going exactly where I wanted it, somebody would throw me a fucking curve ball. But I’d never expected this.
Not from Jack.
Never from Jack.
But I’d deal with him. I’d make him sorry he’d ever touched Hope.
If I could find the motherfucker.
“Graham?” Lauren knocked hesitantly on the bathroom door. “Are you okay? I heard something crash.”
I wasn’t okay, but I bit back the urge to tell her to go the fuck away.
I’d always valued my relationship with my Peanut. So what in the hell was I supposed to do now? Her brother had made himself my enemy. I didn’t want her to have to choose between her real brother and her honorary one.
Lauren and I had a unique relationship. She was one of the only people who didn’t see me as a ruthless prick. I kind of liked it that not everybody on the planet hated my guts.
Jack knew what a dick I was, but he’d learned to blow off the jerk part of my personality—which wasn’t an easy thing to do—and had chosen to see some kind of hero underneath my bullshit.
Problem was, I wasn’t anybody’s hero. I’d stepped over anybody who had gotten in the way of my success. I was a stubborn bastard, probably because I’d been a foster brat who had carried my belongings from one foster home to another in a plastic garbage bag. If that wasn’t motivation to better my situation as an adult, I didn’t know what would be.
I generally hadn’t bothered to unpack when I was a kid. None of my temporary homes lasted for very long.
Back then, Jack and his sister had been the only stable things in a childhood of chaos.
I finally answered Lauren. “I’m good. The mirror broke.”
“Did you break it?” she said suspiciously.
“Naw. It just spontaneously exploded.”
I heard her snort. “The probability of that happening is pretty slim.”
Hell, she was smart. Maybe that was one of the reasons I’d always worshipped her. “Shit happens,” I said noncommittally.
“Okay.” She sounded unconvinced. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you want to talk.”
I didn’t want to talk. I wanted to smash her brother’s ugly face in. I wanted to beat the crap out of him until he told me why in the hell he’d betray our friendship.
It had always been special to me.
It hurt to find out that Jack didn’t rate our friendship quite so highly.
I let out a frustrated breath as I heard Lauren move away from the door.
Maybe I should talk to her, but I felt like she was the enemy, too. She was Jack’s little sister. Could I still trust her?
I dropped my head into my hands.
Jesus! I was so fucked.
I didn’t even know who was friend and who was foe anymore. It wasn’t the first time I’d felt that way, so I’d learned to just write everybody I suspected of screwing me off, whether they were guilty or not.
Maybe it was better if I pretty much treated everybody like they were my enemy. It was a lot safer that way.
CHAPTER 4
Graham
SIXTEEN YEARS AGO…
My mom and dad were dead, and nobody wanted me.
I set my trash bag down on the floor, and flopped on the bunk bed that my new foster parents had shown me just a few minutes before.
I tried to picture the faces of my biological parents, but I was starting to forget what they looked like, how their voices sounded, and how I’d felt while they were alive.
I was nine years old, so it had only been two years since my mom had died, but it seems like a really long time ago.
My dad had been a Navy SEAL, a tough guy who had always played with me when he was home between assignments—which wasn’t very often. My mom used to tell me that my father was brave, and that he had an important job because he was fighting for our country. I had been pretty proud of him because he was a SEAL. Maybe I didn’t see him a lot, but he was still my dad, and I’d idolized him.
Then one day, my mother came to my room and told me that my father had died. Not that I’d completely understood death back then, but I’d known that he was never coming home again to play with me. My mom had told me that he was in Heaven, but I’d seen his body go into the ground, so I didn’t understand how he could be somewhere else when he was buried in a military cemetery.
I kind of understood the whole Heaven and God thing now, but I’d been pretty confused a couple of years ago.
After my dad was gone, my mom had never been the same. She cried all the time, and I’d had no idea how to comfort her. I’d tried, but it had been like she wasn’t really hearing me.
Then, not long after my father died, my mother died, too.
I closed my eyes and tried harder to remember my parents, but it was no use. They were starting to fade away.
“Shit!” I exclaimed aloud, knowing I was saying a bad word, but I didn’t care.
I’d learned plenty of cursing when I’d gone to live with my aunt, which had happened right after my grandparents had passed me over to her. My grandma and grandpa said they couldn’t handle me anymore, so Dad’s sister had taken me in.
I’d only been with my aunt a couple of months before she’d told me I couldn’t stay with her, either.
I was something my relatives and foster families called hyperactive. I knew there was a longer name for whatever I had, but I couldn’t remember the whole thing. But it didn’t matter.
>
I was bad.
I was different.
I did things I shouldn’t do because of the enormous amount of energy I felt sometimes.
Really, I didn’t want to be bad, but sometimes I couldn’t control what I did.
Mostly, I was angry. Why did I have to lose my mom and dad before I was grown up? Other kids had parents, so why didn’t I? Why didn’t my family want me? Yeah, I broke stuff and I said things I shouldn’t, but it wasn’t like I did it on purpose.
I started going from place to place in foster care after I left my aunt’s house, and sooner or later, I was always rejected.
I’d be sent away from this foster family, too, so I knew I couldn’t love them. I didn’t need to love them. I had two good friends now, and that was enough.
I’m glad I have Jack and Lauren.
Jack was my best friend, and Lauren was Jack’s little sister. Neither of them thought I was different or bad.
I got off the bed, hefted my trash bag up, and put it into the closet.
I wanted to go find my friends, the only ones I knew I could trust.
It wasn’t like I really talked to them about my problems, but at least when I was with them, I didn’t feel like such a weirdo.
Because she was only six, I didn’t talk to Lauren about much of anything. But if I was sad, she’d hug me. And she always seemed to know when I wasn’t feeling good.
I’ll never tell Lauren and Jack that people think I’m not worth the trouble I cause. Jack was my best friend, and Lauren looked at me like I was somebody special. I’m not, but I wanted her to keep thinking that I was. It felt good to be important to somebody.
It was a lot better than feeling all alone.
CHAPTER 5
Graham
“I need a drink,” I grumbled to Lauren as I entered the kitchen.
