Time of Possession (Seattle Lumberjacks #5)

by Jami Davenport

  “Marilyn, have a little pride.” Estie chastised her dog, as she poured them both a cup of coffee and took her seat again, pushing the other cup across the table.

  Tyler scratched Marilyn behind the ears, a spot guaranteed to make her drool and grovel. “You’re not distracting me that easily.”

  As if she ever could. “Then get to the point.”

  He held the cup up to his lips and sipped while studying her over the rim, much like he studied opposing defenses over the heads of his offensive line.

  “You’re fucking with Brett, and I know it.”

  Estie blanched, swallowing hard. She ducked her head, not wanting her brother to read every secret broadcast on her face more clearly than on the big screen in Tyler’s condo. Estie squirmed and picked up Spock, cuddling him close, trying to draw comfort from the squirming cat, who so did not want to be cuddled when it wasn’t his idea.

  Tyler reached out his arms and Spock leapt into them, deserting her, just like Marilyn had. Tyler shot her one of his annoying as hell cocky grins.

  “I’m not sure what you mean?” Estie gave the traitorous cat the evil eye. In response Spock smirked at her with one of those uniquely cat smirks that essentially said fuck you.

  “What I mean is this is bullshit, and you know it.”

  “What’s bullshit?” Estie bit back her temper, knowing Tyler probed for weakness in any situation, even those involving family.

  “You and Brett.”

  Estie opened her mouth to deny his accusations then thought better of it. Time to come clean, at least partially. “Brett and I have a lot in common. We work on animal issues together and hang out. We’re good friends and since when is this any of your business?”

  “When it affects the team.” Tyler helped himself to another cup of coffee and sat back down. “You know, sis, seriously, Brett’s a tough guy, but he’s damn vulnerable when it comes to relationships. He doesn’t need you jacking him around when he should be concentrating on the playoffs.”

  “I’m not jacking him around.”

  Tyler snorted and almost choked on his coffee. “Never bullshit a bullshitter. I see right through you. You’re just toying with the guy. You may not see it that way, but I do. In less than a month, you’ll be dumping his ass and heading off to vet school.” Tyler didn’t approve of her going to vet school. He’d said as much during more than one conversation. He trusted her to handle his finances and didn’t like change or the unknown any more than she did.

  “Do you really think I’m that shallow?”

  Tyler raised one eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back in his chair until it was balancing on its back two legs. She hated it when he did that. “You’re sleeping with him.”

  “So what if I am?”

  Tyler sat the chair back down with a bang, and Estie jumped. “Brett could do something really special here, and he doesn’t need you messing with his head right now. Think of someone other than yourself for once.”

  “He’s a big boy. He doesn’t need you to defend his honor.”

  Tyler scowled one of his badass Tyler scowls, but it’d never affected Estie much. “Maybe you don’t see it, but Brett’s emotionally vulnerable right now. He’s tough as nails on the football field, but not so much in relationships. He’s fallen for you like a guy diving into an empty swimming pool from the high board. Not pretty.”

  “And I’m the empty swimming pool?”

  “Damn right. There might appear to be water in that pool but there isn’t. At least not enough for him to swim in instead of splattering his guts all over the bottom.” Tyler had never embraced tact.

  “Thanks for that visual. Maybe I filled the pool while you weren’t looking.” Estie snapped the lid shut on her laptop and glared at Tyler. Her damn cat had crawled up his shirt and was rubbing its face across Tyler’s stubble.

  “Sister, there isn’t enough water on earth to fill that pool.”

  Estie sat back like she’d been slapped across the face. She’d just been insulted but she wasn’t even certain what the insult was. “Shallow” was definitely part of the definition. “So what’re you saying?”

  “Interpret it any way you want. Just don’t screw with Brett’s mind right now. I promised Murphy he’d get a ring this year. I may not be able to fulfill that promise by being on the field, but I sure as hell will do everything in my power off the field. Don’t you fucking get it?”

  “Get what?” She got a lot, but obviously not the point her brother was trying to make.

  “Brett’s going to move on, leave this area. He’ll be made an offer with Miami he doesn’t dare refuse, big money, great team around him, all the keys to success. He’d be a dumbass to turn that down.”

  “Even if he’s with me, why would he need to turn it down?”

  “The closest vet school is close to five hours away. How are you and Brett holding it together with those miles between you?”

  “There are other teams. Doesn’t San Francisco need a franchise quarterback?”

  “Sure, a crappy team with no cap space, a lousy offensive line, and receivers who couldn’t catch a beach ball from five feet away. You’d put him in a situation like that for your own selfish gain, just because it jives with your neat little scheduled world?”

  “No, I—”

  “Think about it, Estie. He’ll do anything to keep you with him. I know Brett. Will you do anything to be with him?” Tyler rose to his feet. He put his cup in the dishwasher and walked to the door, Marilyn dogging his heels every step of the way, while Dozer did what he did best, dozed on his dog bed. Tyler paused at Bongo’s cage. “Fuck you, Bongo.”

  “Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you.” Bongo sang happily.

  “Tyler, stop that. You’ve turned Bongo into a feathered version of you.”

  “Lucky bird. Can you throw a fifty-yard touchdown strike, buddy?” Tyler asked the parrot.

  “Fuck you, Tyler. Fuck you. Fuck you.” Bongo replied, as he used his foot to ring the little bell in his cage.

  Her brother laughed, not the least bit contrite, and then turned his attention back to Estie. “Think about what I said. Put Brett first and quit fucking with his mind.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Yeah, whatever. Stop living in dreamland and wake up to reality like the rest of us.” Ty scratched Marilyn on the head, and the dog almost swooned. “And keep this door locked.”

  With those last words, her brother was gone.

  “Screw you!” Estie shouted to the closed door. Oh, yeah, like those words would affect her brother.

  Shaking with remorse, Estie heaved a deep sigh and walked to the window to stare at the horses grazing in the field below in the misty rain. Fog settled over the fields and nearby hillsides, giving the entire scene a surreal view.

  Marilyn dropped down next to the door with a thud and a deep sigh, while Bongo continued his repertoire of swear words, and Dozer snored in the corner.

  Her life was supposed to be getting on track, not on the verge of derailing.

  * * * * *

  A few hours later, Estie walked into the clinic in need of a friend and instantly knew something was wrong. Not one dog barked from the back room in greeting. Not one family sat in the waiting room with excited children ready to adopt their next furry family member. And Frannie the receptionist wasn’t scowling from the front desk like always.

  Estie pushed open the door to the clinic and kennel area. Empty. Almost sterile. She shivered and hugged herself, feeling as if she’d walked into an alternate reality, some kind of Twilight Zone moment or something from The X-Files.

  Sylvia walked out of the bathroom and paused, her face a perfect emotionless mask, which meant she was anything but emotionless. Whenever she reined in her emotions that tightly she teetered on the edge of an emotional meltdown. “I thought I heard someone out here.” Sylvia avoided her friend’s accusing gaze and stared out the window at the stark winter landscape and misty rain.

  Words jam
med in Estie’s throat, and she swallowed and forced them out in a worried croak. “What’s going on? Where is everything? Did you move the clinic?” If only it were that simple, but her gut shook with a resounding no.

  “We didn’t move it.” Sylvia continued to stare out the window, her classic features drawn into a tight mask across her flawless dark skin.

  “Then where is everyone? Where are the animals?” Estie fought down the panic turning her words into a high-pitched shriek.

  Sylvia ran her hands over her face, sighed wearily, and faced Estie, meeting her gaze. “We closed down.”

  “Closed down?” Not possible. Sylvia and her sisters bled for this place, put every spare penny into it, just as Estie had also.

  Sylvia sucked her lower lip into her mouth, a sure sign she didn’t want to explain herself. Instead, she started tossing leashes and other doggy-related items into a cardboard box, whistling as if neither of them had a care in the world. Which was total, absolute bullshit, and they both knew it.

  “What happened?” Estie followed her around the room as Sylvia grabbed anything not nailed down and shoved it in the box.

  “Nothing. We’re closed.”

  “Just like that? Why didn’t you tell me? I didn’t know anything about this. I could’ve helped with the funding.”

  “No, really. This is necessary. We’ll open again someday.”

  “What aren’t you telling me?”

  Sylvia slammed stuff in the box at an alarming rate, breaking a small dog figurine in the process, but she didn’t seem to give a shit.

  “Sylvia,” Estie growled.

  Nothing.

  “Syl-vi-a.” Estie drew out each syllable in frustration.

  Sylvia stopped and slumped into an orange plastic office chair. “We lost our funding.”

  Her friend’s words slammed into Estie with the force of a pitch thrown at a hundred miles an hour. Her stomach took an elevator to the basement, and her head pounded, as she dug her fingernails into her palms. “Richard?”

  “No, his parents. They pulled their funding. We operate on a tight budget. And we lease the building month to month from them. They raised the rent. As soon as they did that, we knew we couldn’t cover bills so we had no choice but to bail.”

  “I could talk to them. I could—”

  “No. Estie, you can’t. I talked to them. Trust me when I say that you wouldn’t be welcome.”

  Sylvia was right, but it didn’t make Estie feel one damn bit better.

  * * * * *

  Brett walked through the Jacks’ cafeteria. The overall mood was uplifting and boisterous. How could it not be? They were going to the Super Bowl.

  He ordered a burger and fries, needing to load up on carbs after the physically and emotionally draining game a few days ago.

  Brett placed a tray on the table and sat down in the empty chair next to Bruiser. His buddy glanced up and nodded then went back to shoveling in food like it was his last supper. All around them, voices rose and fell as their teammates consumed mass quantities of food in the team dining room.

  And Brett was their starting quarterback—a weird-assed dream come true, exceeding his wildest expectations.

  Only the dream wasn’t over yet. Once he won that biggest of all games, he’d finally silence the doubters. There were those who might say getting there was a fluke. Winning was the only option and the key to a big contract and a future in broadcasting once he played his last down.

  Brett should be ecstatic, yet fear weighed heavy on his heart—fear of failure, but not failure on the football field. Brett Gunnels feared he’d lose Estie. Something happened yesterday, even though she wouldn’t admit it. He sensed her uncertainty and her pulling away from him, except in bed. Their lovemaking last night took on an almost desperate aspect. Something was definitely off with her.

  He was losing her, and he didn’t know what the hell to do about it. Nor could he do anything about it with the Super Bowl looming over his entire fucking future.

  A little niggling of doubt pushed to the forefront of his mind, and he shoved it back in the corner where it belonged. Estie had never told him she loved him. Never guaranteed anything past the next day. Estie wanted vet school. Brett wanted to start for a team with potential.

  “Hey, man, what the hell has your balls in vise?”

  Brett looked up to find Bruiser studying him with unnerving intensity. “Nothing. Just the game, that’s all.”

  “Nah, that’s not all. I’ve known you too long. Something else is up. Gotta be a woman. Like maybe Harris’s sister? You don’t say much about her. How’s it going?”

  Brett sighed. A private guy, he preferred to keep his business to himself, yet this time he needed a friend. “I’m not sure. Everything was going great until yesterday. Something changed, but I don’t know what.”

  “Did you ask her?”

  “No, I thought if she wanted me to know, she’d tell me.”

  “You dumbass. You don’t know a damn thing about women. They want you to ask. In fact, they expect it. You keep your mouth shut and wait for them and you’ll get this bullshit about how you don’t care, and you never pay attention to them.”

  “Sounds like the voice of experience.”

  “Any married man or a man in a serious relationship with a woman can vouch for what I’m saying. How you missed that part of the Guy’s Manual to Pleasing Females, I’ll never know.”

  Brett scratched his head and took a bite out of a juicy hamburger. The Jacks employed a full-time chef, and the guy could cook like nobody’s business. He chewed on his burger and on Bruiser’s words. “I guess I’ll try asking.”

  “Better than fretting about it.”

  “I don’t fret,” Brett didn’t appreciate the insult. Men did not fret. They left that to women. Brett’s sisters fretted, his mother fretted, and every other woman he’d been close to fretted. Brett did not.

  Bruiser chuckled and speared one of Brett’s pickles with his fork. “Yeah, whatever. You’re worried about Estie, worried she might rip your heart out and leave it at the side of the road while she backs over it a few times and drives off in a cloud of dust.”

  That about summed it up. He’d looked all his life for a woman like Estie. “I don’t want to screw this up.”

  “Well, good luck with that, buddy. We all screw it up. It’s whether or not the relationship is strong enough to survive our idiocy that’s the question.” Bruiser waved at Derek weaving through the tables looking for an empty spot. “Ask Derek.”

  Derek sat down at the table and looked from one to another. “Ask me what?” When neither man answered, Derek nodded. “This convo has to be about a female.”

  Bruiser nodded, while Brett looked over his head and out the window at the rain falling in buckets.

  “Well, don’t ask me then. I don’t have any words of wisdom. I learn by my mistakes, and I’ve made plenty.”

  “That’s what I was telling our man, here, but he’s pretty clueless about women.” Bruiser pointed at Brett and stole another pickle off his plate.

  “Go get your own pickles. There are plenty over there.”

  “I’d rather take yours.” Bruiser munched happily. Not much affected him.

  Brett glanced at Derek, who stared at him like he’d just realized who he was. He wiped his mouth off with his napkin, but Derek continued to stare. “This has to do with my cousin.” Derek rubbed his chin and sighed. “My female cousin.”

  “Brett’s in love with her. Didn’t you know that?” Bruiser offered helpfully, while Brett ran his finger along the edge of the table knife as if to test its sharpness.

  “Yeah, I knew it. Everyone knows it. You sure you know what you’re getting into, buddy?” Derek’s sympathetic brown eyes trained on Brett, as if he had a fucking clue how deep into this relationship Brett had sunk.

  “I can handle myself.”

  “Yeah, right. We all say that. You’re going down just like the rest of us. But, hey, I love going down, and I
’m betting you sure as shit do, too.”

  Brett shrugged. There was no reasoning with these clowns, and just to insure the shit flew even faster, Zach lowered his big body into the last empty chair.

  “What the hell’s going on?”

  “Brett’s succumbed.”

  “Oh, yeah, a woman. I knew that.” Zach stuffed a roll in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “Harris’s sister, huh?”

  “How the fuck does everyone on this team know my business?” Brett hated being the focus of conversation when it came to his private life.

  Zach grinned. “We’re a team, my man. That’s why your business is my business. If she’s anything like Harris, she’ll slam you up the side of the head worse than any blitzing linebacker.”

  Derek, good cousin that he was, jumped to her defense. “Estie has a heart of gold, but she’s not a woman to get involved with. Take my word for it.”

  “So how’s it going with your women?” Brett looked at each one of them, daring them to answer. By the deer-in-headlights expressions on each of their faces, he’d bludgeoned them into changing the conversation.

  Zach turned to Bruiser. “Hey, when did HughJack say we were flying to San Diego?”

  “I don’t remember.” Bruiser looked at Derek, who usually had an answer for everything and paid attention to stuff like that.

  “Next Sunday morning, I think.” Derek launched into a dissertation about New England and their defense. His teammates joined in, anything to avoid personal conversations about those most elusive of creatures—their female partners. They wanted to rag on him but couldn’t take it themselves.

  Brett sat back and watched the lively conversation, not saying much because he couldn’t quite take his mind off Estie and what might be troubling her.

  His ran through possible scenarios for her recent withdrawal, and he didn’t like a damn one of them.