The Bridge to a Better Life

by Ava Miles

  “I told him I didn’t have my long-term plans set, that I was just getting settled in Dare Valley and focusing on my upcoming football camp.” Of course, Cormack hadn’t liked the delay and had proceeded to sell him harder.

  “Just because the guy’s a prick doesn’t mean the offer’s no good,” Sam told him.

  “I know. They’ll need to hire a new coach soon though. They’ve already put one candidate on the back burner because of me.”

  Sam sat on a bar stool as Blake juiced the fruit. He poured the juice into two glasses when he was finished and dug out spoons. They both dished some maca powder and chia seeds into their drinks, stirring in the companionable quiet.

  “Do you want to do it?” Sam finally asked, standing up to put his spoon in the dishwasher. “I’m sure you’ve gotten plenty of other offers.” One thing he didn’t worry about with Sam was cleanliness. Now with some of the other guys…

  “I’m still not sure I’m coaching material. And I…want a better idea of where things are going with Natalie before I make a commitment like that.”

  “That’s understandable,” Sam told him as they headed out onto the deck.

  Touchdown followed them, and then ran off to chase a couple squirrels leaping from tree to tree.

  “I’m not sure when I’ll know…about Natalie. As for the coaching thing…I feel like I’ll have the answer after camp.”

  Sam rested his hand on his shoulder when they both sat down. “It’s okay to spin your wheels for a bit and see where it takes you. What did Coach always say about plans?”

  Leave it to Sam to be level-headed. “You’ll have to help me. Coach said a lot of things.”

  “Never react to life. Be the determiner of your own fate. If Cormack presses you again, tell him you can’t make a decision yet. If he decides to wait, and you decide you want it, then it’s meant to be. If not, something else will come along to make you happy. Or you can fashion your own opportunity, just like you’ve done with the camp.”

  His mouth tipped up in a smile. “I could pretty much kiss you right now.”

  “Good Lord! You have gone crackers out here in the woods.” He jostled Blake’s shoulder playfully. “Drink your juice.”

  The temperature was in the mid-eighties, and there were no clouds to mar the beautiful sunshine streaming down on the deck. He’d taken to spending most of his days out back, either reading up on coaching kids with intellectual disabilities or running through the progress on the camp with his assistant. And he’d been poring over the materials Special Olympics had sent him, making notations in the margins.

  “How’s the camp shaping up?” Sam asked. “I told Coach I’d be helping you this year.”

  “I called him to talk about the camp.” Coach had told Blake that he had a lot to offer the world and that he had every faith he’d figure out the next step, even suggesting he’d be a great coach if he decided to go that route. “He was supportive, but I could tell he wasn’t exactly thrilled I’d be stealing some of you guys. He told me you’d bowed out of Once Upon A Dare this year.”

  Sam shrugged. “I found a replacement—like all of the other guys did. We weren’t about to leave Coach in a lurch. He needs to get over it.”

  But Coach didn’t like last-minute changes. “You don’t have to help,” Blake made himself say.

  “Like hell I don’t.” Sam kicked off his shoes and wiggled his toes in the sun. “Besides, I can help him next year—and you. Just couldn’t manage both this summer.”

  “Thanks, man,” he said, kicking his shoes off too as he sipped his drink. Whoever said fruit juice was for sissies had never enjoyed the real thing.

  “You know we have your back. So, how many applications have you received for the camp so far?”

  “In less than a day, we received more than four hundred.”

  Sam tilted his head to the side. “But I thought you were going to limit it to forty.”

  “Exactly. I knew the need was great, but I wasn’t expecting this.” And he was still a bit shocked. He’d thought about trying to expand the camp, but this was the first one. It was on a tight timeline and he wanted to get it right. Next year, he could look at expanding.

  “All right, we’ve waited long enough. Tell me how things are with Natalie,” Sam said, draining his juice and setting his glass on the small table between their chairs.

  How to answer? Natalie talked with him whenever they swapped Touchdown, but he hadn’t been invited over for another meal. Likely because she didn’t want to raise his hopes too much. Of course, their Outlander watch party had pretty much shot his hopes to the moon. He’d gone around like a love-sick schoolboy for the past few days.

  “Good, I think. She and the hotel are catering a few of our meals this weekend, except for Saturday night when we’ll go into town. I rented part of the Irish bar for us.”

  There was an indelicate snort from his friend. “Catering, huh? That’s mighty nice of her.”

  “Yes, it is.” He then told Sam the story about their friends-only meal the other night. “I think…she feels guilty about me leaving football and…hell, I’ll put it out there…I think she’s a little sorry for me because of Adam.”

  “She probably feels guilty for leaving you like she did, especially now that you’ve forgiven her. And as far as her feeling sorry for you…you just lost your brother, man. There’s nothing wrong with a little compassion.”

  But he wanted more than that from her. Isn’t that why he hadn’t said anything to her about Adam until coming to Dare Valley? His mind started spinning to a weird place, and since he wanted to retain his positivity about Natalie—about his hopes for a future with her—he changed the topic to his other favorite subject.

  “Why don’t you tell me a bit about your upcoming season?” he asked. “Since we aren’t going to be playing against each other, you can spill the beans.” And it would give him a taste of what he’d been missing.

  “Sure. And hey, that means I can call you and ask for advice now and again.”

  “Yeah, you can.” Even he heard the glee in his voice.

  Sam began walking him through the Washington Warriors’ offense and then moved onto their defense. By the time he rolled around to outlining their opponents for the coming season, there was a solid banging on the front door. Touchdown barked and darted to the front of the house.

  “Guess our one-on-one is up,” Blake said, rising.

  He jogged to the front door, fearing the guys would knock it off the hinges, and swung it open to reveal six hulking figures grinning back at him.

  “Well, at least you don’t look like an ancient retiree,” Atlanta Rebels’ Jordan Dean barked out as he rushed him.

  “I could still kick your ass,” he said, slapping him on the back as they hugged.

  Then he went from one guy to the next, man-hugging each of them with all his strength. His football brothers were in the house. All was well in his world at this moment.

  “I think I see more gray in your hair,” the Boston Stars’ prize wide receiver Logan Eastwood said when they broke apart. “Good thing Jordan brought his special hair dye.”

  He cringed. He was going to have to lock his door at night.

  “I’ll keep your hair safe, Blake,” New York Tigers’ QB Hunter Cahill told him as he stooped to pick up Touchdown.

  “My hair is just fine,” he told them, hoping he was right. God, he wasn’t going gray, was he? Shit, he was way too young for that. He’d have to drink more smoothies or something.

  “Your hair doesn’t hold a candle to mine,” San Francisco Stingrays’ defensive lineman Grant Thornton said, ruffling his messy page-boy brown locks that were the subject of many a fan tweet.

  “Not even Jordan can compete with your do,” Sam said as he made his own round of greetings. “No one can.”

  “Hey, I resent that,” Jordan said, tilting his head back like he was a male model awaiting admiration.

  “You would,” Blake called out. He’d been good-natu
redly ragging other players ever since he first started playing team sports at the age of five. He realized he’d been missing this…a lot.

  Brody Keller, the Chicago Titans’ wide receiver, gave him a playful shove. “I can’t believe you up and retired on me. I was going to kick your ass when we played this year.”

  “You’re only sore because I retired before you could beat me.”

  “He sure is,” Zack Durant, quarterback of the New Orleans Akkadians, said. “I’m pissed too. We were even at two wins apiece. Guess we’ll have to figure out some other way to break that tie.”

  Everyone fell silent for a minute, and Jordan locked eyes with him.

  “How are you really doing?” the QB asked.

  His chest squeezed tight, but he lifted his shoulder. “About how you’d expect. I still miss Adam like crazy and find myself grieving at the oddest times when something triggers it.” Last night, it had been Adam’s favorite song coming on the radio as he’d driven back from his run. “And then there’s Natalie…”

  “Ah…that girl,” Hunter said quietly.

  Even though they all knew his reasons for retiring, he still said, “I want her back in my life. Right now, we’ve started as friends. It’s…I’m hopeful. She even agreed to cater our meals this weekend.”

  “Good,” Logan said, clapping him on the back. “Now, how about you show us inside this place?”

  When Grant bent down to pick up his black leather duffle, Blake saw the stretch Hummer parked catawampus in his driveway. His buddy was so big he’d almost blocked the view.

  “Which one of you yahoos drove that monstrosity?” he asked.

  “That would be me,” Jordan said. “Grant and I flipped for it, but he chose tails.”

  “Everyone knows you always lose when you choose tails,” Zack said.

  They’d argued over the science of the coin toss for years since it was one of the most important factors in a football game. Most of them were team captains who had been in charge of the coin toss. Some of them favored heads while a couple outliers were rabid about always calling tails.

  “Don’t make me punch you this soon in the weekend,” Hunter said, and he and Zack got into each other’s faces and started playfully shoving each other, causing Touchdown to bark and leap at their ankles.

  “Come on, girls, you can continue the pillow fight inside,” Blake said, herding them into the house.

  After storing their gear, they piled into the kitchen. Suddenly the wide open space felt like a closet with all the giants hulking about. Sam dispensed beers to the ones who wanted a brew and made some juice for Hunter and Zack. Grabbing his own beer, Blake followed the guys out onto the deck where they all dragged a few more deck chairs around his patio table until they were seated in a lop-sided circle.

  “God, smell that mountain air,” Hunter said and then promptly started to cough.

  Grant reached over and pounded him on the back. “Guess he can’t handle the purity after all those New York fumes he inhales daily.”

  “No,” Hunter said in a raspy voice between coughs, “I think I swallowed a bug.”

  Everyone started laughing at that, and when Jordan rose to give Hunter the Heimlich, their hilarity spiraled out of control. Touchdown barked and then raced off, as if deciding he’d had enough. He caught Sam’s look and grinned. Yeah, they were thinking the same thing. These guys might be yahoos…but they were their yahoos.

  The rattle of metal sounded behind them, and Blake craned his neck to see what it was. Natalie was standing at the side of the house, fingering a trio of gold bracelets, an annoyed expression on her face. He glanced at his watch and winced. He’d forgotten to put a note on the front door to tell her to come in and set up lunch. Instead she’d had to come around the back to look for him.

  Hunter rose from his chair first. “Hey, babe. Good to see you. We were all worried about putting Blake in charge of feeding us, but it looks like he ordered up the best like usual. How have you been?”

  “Fine, Hunter Punter. How about you?”

  The grin she gave his friends made his breath catch in his throat. It was a bit like old times again…except not.

  “You guys were braying like hyenas,” she continued “No wonder you didn’t hear me knocking on the front door.”

  “What can we say, Nat?” Jordan called out. “We like to walk on the wild side.”

  The other guys rose as Blake did. He watched her walk across the rest of the yard, taking in the sight of her white capri pants, black T-shirt, and sexy gladiator sandals. The Celtic knot tattoo on the inside of her ankle had his mouth watering. He’d seen it before, sure, but he’d never had the guts to ask her when she’d gotten it or why. He only knew it had appeared after their divorce—and he found it incredibly hot.

  The guys all kissed her, hugged her, and lifted her off the ground. “Okay, enough of all that,” she said, giving Grant a playful wink. “I need to let my people in.”

  “I’ll do it,” Blake said, hoping to catch a look from her—anything that would tell him how they were doing today. They both knew it was weird, her being back with this group as the caterer, not as Blake’s wife.

  “I’ll help you,” Sam said, slapping him on the back as if sensing his unease.

  His status with Natalie was as changeable as the weather right now, and he knew it.

  She finally looked at him as he slipped inside the kitchen with Sam. He lifted his hand in greeting, waiting for her to smile. When she didn’t, he felt more than a little unsettled. Having her with the guys brought back so many good memories for him, and he’d hoped she would feel the same. Then he opened the door and let two strangers into his house to set up the chafing pans and unpack the food. Now he understood why she hadn’t smiled. Things might be familiar, but they were also horribly different.

  He wondered if that would ever change as far as Natalie was concerned.

  Chapter 12

  Though she was loathe to admit it, Natalie had missed this motley crew of giants. Sure, they’d always been easy on the eyes and charming beyond measure, in the way most superstar athletes were, but they also genuinely cared about her.

  Always had.

  Even if she’d up and left their best friend for no reason.

  They were loyal to Blake, so she’d felt self-conscious and awkward about seeing them today. But it had quickly become clear that they were doing their best to be nice to her. She could almost hear their pact. If Blake wanted her back, they were going to support him one hundred percent. Even if she’d been a bitch.

  Grant picked her up from behind, making her scream. “I’m going to toss you over to Zack.”

  They’d played this game with her many times. And yes, sometimes it was fun, but she was supposed to be working. She tickled his ribs, and he immediately let her go and released a high-pitched giggle.

  “Hey, now, no need to be mean,” he said, putting plenty of space between them.

  “I swear, if the guys in the league knew you were this ticklish, they wouldn’t have to tackle you.”

  Brody advanced on him, and Natalie knew to get out of the way. A tickle fight was about to commence. She felt a strange sort of pride for having started it.

  “Don’t you dare touch me!” Grant raved, but Brody, Logan, and Jordan rushed him, and soon the defensive lineman was running for his life across the yard with the others in hot pursuit. Touchdown raced after them, barking in short bursts.

  Zack and Hunter exchanged looks.

  “Guess we should probably follow them,” Hunter said. “They might run into a bear and get mauled.”

  Zack snorted. “I’d love to see that.”

  Natalie put her hands on her hips. “It’s time for lunch, so you’d best bring them back while the food is hot.”

  Not that the chafing dishes wouldn’t do their job, but she knew these guys. Once they started horsing around, it was hard to get their attention until hunger descended. Then they turned into a pack of starving wolves. She didn’t
plan on letting things unravel to that state of affairs.

  “Yes, ma’am,” Zack said with a salute. “We’ll bring them back. And your little dog too. Assuming Grant still has his pants on.”

  She shook her head. “Like I haven’t seen his ass before. How many times do you think you’ve pulled this sort of random crap around me?”

  Hunter burst out laughing. “A lot. Not that we’ve ever pantsed Sam.”

  No, no one would dare strip Sam’s pants off. “How many times have you gotten Blake?” She’d seen it happen at least twice. Both times had made her hot. And that was so not something she needed to be thinking about right now.

  Zack scratched his goatee. “Probably a half dozen. He’s not the fastest, but he has pretty impressive evasion tactics.”

  “And he’s mean,” Hunter added.

  Yeah, Blake didn’t go down without a fight.

  “All right,” she said. “Go get those morons and tell them it’s time to eat.”

  She hated to sound like their mom, but this had always been her role with them, and it felt natural. At least she wouldn’t have to clean up after them this weekend. A few of them could be downright pigs.

  Blake stuck his head through the open door as Zack and Hunter jogged off in the direction of Grant’s high-pitched giggles.

  “Who are they pantsing?” he asked with a grin.

  “Grant. He was going to toss me around, so I tickled him. It devolved from there.”

  He strode forward, his sandy brown hair gleaming in the afternoon sunshine. Sometimes looking at Blake was blinding. It wasn’t just the mega-watt power of his grin. No, it was the easy power that radiated through his whole body, as natural as the electricity that ran through a house.

  “So, you’re the instigator, huh?” he asked, standing beside her. “It’s good to have the guys here. I really appreciate you taking care of the food, Nat.”

  She could feel the pull of other memories—various weekends when they’d hosted the guys together, as a unit. Her walls rose a few inches as an unwanted sense of yearning rolled through her.