Football was his life.
Well, it was until he met Gia his junior year, a few months before the NFL draft.
Then she became his life.
Glancing over at me, Ryan squeezes my hand as we continue driving towards my apartment near campus. Liam lives in a high-end, gated subdivision on the outskirts of Green Bay where each house has a few acres of land. When I decided to move out of the dorms at the end of junior year, Liam suggested that I consider moving in with them.
Alright, it was way more than a suggestion.
I was, for all intents and purposes, browbeaten.
In the kindest, most loving way possible, of course.
As much as I adore spending time with all of them, I need my own space. And with a five-year-old, a three-year-old, and a four-month-old- it’s crazy time all the time at their place.
After spending nearly ten hours over at their house, I’m sweaty and tired. Most of the day was spent helping Gia with food preparation and making sure everyone had what they needed or in the pool with Ty and Charlotte.
The party was a huge success. Just like it always is. And it turned out to be a gorgeous day. Everyone had a great time playing the lawn games that my brother set up or hanging out in the pool. Both Ty and Charlotte were mesmerized by the fireworks show at the end of the night.
The only fly in the ointment, sort to speak, was JT.
For the most part, he kept to himself and didn’t bother me. Sure, he tried striking up a little bit of conversation, but I quickly shut that down. I think what bothers me most about JT Higgins is the way my body comes to attention whenever he’s in the vicinity. Especially when I feel that green-eyed gaze of his on me. I think I could brush off the entire situation, just like I have in the past, if I didn’t find myself now responding to him.
Squeezing my hand, Ryan’s brown eyes drift towards mine as if he’s waiting for an answer. Which makes me suspect that I probably spaced out for a moment or two and didn’t catch what he was saying.
Damn JT Higgins!
Even when I’m nowhere near him, he’s still able to mess with my head. It only leaves me gritting my teeth in frustration. Because I don’t want to feel this way about him. Shaking away the irritation, I admit, “Sorry, I didn’t catch that. Guess I’m more tired than I realized.”
Those words have him slanting a sly look my way. And just like that, I know exactly what direction this conversation is going to veer in. I can’t help but mentally sigh. It’s a conversation we seem to be having more and more often of late.
And it’s getting old.
“Does that mean you’re too tired to hang out for a bit?”
I almost snort but rein it in at the last moment. Apparently hanging out is the new euphemism for having sex.
Interesting.
I’ll have to remember that.
“Ummmm...”
When I don’t say anything more, I see an annoyed expression flicker across his face.
I brace myself for a fight, but instead, he just stares soundlessly out the windshield. Because the strained silence doesn’t sit well with me, I start twisting my fingers together in my lap. It doesn’t take long for the word to come tumbling quietly out of my mouth, “Sorry.”
The fact that I even feel the need to apologize irritates me. I shouldn’t feel bad about not being ready to take that next step with him. So I go with the most plausible excuse. Which is actually the truth. Whether he wants to believe it or not. “I’m just really tired. It’s been a long day.”
Weaving through traffic, he continues staring straight ahead. “Yep.”
That one word stated rather succinctly leaves me fidgeting on the seat next to him. Even though it’s just the pair of us in the car, I still drop my voice. “It’s just that… I haven’t gone to the clinic yet.”
The annoyed expression that had merely flickered across his face a few moments ago now settles there permanently. “I thought you were going to take care of that last week?”
Feeling uncomfortable, I shrug. I hate the way it’s starting to feel like I’m being forced into this. Which is stupid, I know. Because I really do want to sleep with him. I don’t even know why I’m dragging my feet on this. I should be throwing myself at the guy. I’m a twenty-one-year-old virgin, for crying out loud. I’m more than ready to get this over with. And I’ve been seeing Ryan for two months now. It couldn’t be more perfect.
And yet…
“I didn’t have time,” I finally mumble into the yawning silence.
Actually, I had plenty of time.
Like I said before, I’m dragging my feet on this and, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. After the first month, Ryan made it perfectly clear that he wanted to have a sexual relationship. Because he was getting so aggressive about it, I finally told him about my… er… lack of experience.
Which bought me a few more weeks.
But he seems to be running out of patience with me. Unfortunately, the more I sense his annoyance, the less inclined I am to actually go through with it. Which is seriously counterproductive to the end result.
I wish he would just chill out and let the whole thing happen naturally. Is that really so difficult? Honestly, I’ve taken a few psychology classes since I’ve been here and a little reverse psychology would go a long way right now. It would certainly be better than him getting all pushy.
“So when are you going to make the appointment?” His deep brown eyes skewer mine before he adds with just a hint of acid, “Or are you not going to?”
“I will.” When he merely raises a dubious brow like he no longer believes me, I add hastily, “This week. I’ll call this week and set up an appointment.” I hoist a small smile hoping that we can put this conversation to rest.
I’m tired and not in the mood for it.
But no…
Apparently, he’s not quite ready to let it drop.
Sigh.
“Look, if this isn’t something you really want, just level with me. Don’t keep stringing me along, telling me that it’s going to happen and then it never does.”
Stringing him along?
He’s acting like we’ve been together for years.
Decades even.
It’s been two months, buddy. Eight weeks to be exact.
I didn’t realize I was simply expected to fall onto my back and spread my legs right away. Foolish me thought we could take our time getting to know one another before we decided to become more intimate.
His words have a spark of exasperation igniting within me. “Look,” I say with a bit more bite, “I just didn’t have time this week. I’ll call tomorrow and make the appointment. There’s been a lot going on with the start of classes and moving into my apartment.”
He nods but still says, “I’m just trying to make sure that you still want this, Claire. If you’re not ready for an adult relationship with this level of intimacy, you need to be straight with me. I don’t want to push you into it. I’m not that kind of guy.”
Adult relationship?
Really?
I arch an eyebrow.
Like I’m some baby because I’ve never slept with a man before? Is he seriously implying that having sex makes you a grown up? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life. And maybe I’m not going to say it because I don’t really want to get into it with Ryan at eleven o’clock at night when I’m already wiped, but that’s the way I feel.
And as far as him not wanting to be pushy. Ha! Because sometimes that’s exactly the kind of guy he is.
Sucking in a deep breath, I try settling all my thoughts. Today was really nice, and I don’t want to ruin it by getting into an argument with Ryan over the fact that we haven’t slept together yet. “Look,” I say softly with far more patience than I’m currently feeling, “I do want this. I’m just trying to make sure it’s right, that’s all.”
As soon as the last sentence is out of my mouth, I realize that I shouldn’t have uttered it out loud. Becau
se, quite naturally, that’s exactly what he latches onto.
“And you’re not sure if it is?” He pauses. “Right? With me?”
Grrrr.
Any moment I’m going to lose it. Immediately I shake my head. “No, that’s not what I meant. I just want to make sure I’m ready for this. It has far more to do with me than you.”
Although, if I’m being completely honest, there’s a tiny voice inside my head that wonders if what I’m saying is altogether true. Seemingly satisfied with my answer, Ryan gives my hand a small squeeze before bringing my fingers to his lips and laying a kiss on my knuckles.
Although that gesture would normally melt my heart, I’m still peeved about this entire conversation.
“You know I’m going to make it perfect for you, right?”
I hoist my lips. “I know.” And I do think he will try being, I don’t know… gentle.
“I want your first time to be good.”
Everything within me that had become strung impossibly tight finally begins to loosen with his words and the softly intimate look now filling his eyes.
For the first time since this conversation began, I feel like we’re both on the same page. My exasperation finally begins to thaw in earnest, and I’m once again reminded what it is about Ryan that attracted me to him in the first place.
Maybe he was just surprised that I hadn’t called the clinic yet and scheduled an appointment for the pill. Of course, I’m still going to make him wear a condom. I want to be doubly safe. I may not have any firsthand experience with sex, but I’ve heard plenty of horror stories while living in the dorms. Not only pregnancy scares, but STD’s as well. In fact, I took a health class last year that pretty much terrified the crap out of me. The photographs they showed were entirely too graphic.
If you’re looking to be scared straight off sex, just take Sexual Health (yup, it’s really a class). Can’t say that I didn’t learn a lot that semester. Although sometimes I have to wonder if maybe I didn’t learn a little too much.
Chapter Four
JT
It wasn’t all that long ago that I was out every night, partying my ass off. Even during the season. Hell, especially during the season. And yet, no matter how shitfaced I got the night before, I was still able to haul my ass out of bed every single morning and get to practice on time. And I’d perform well, too. Sure, on the inside I was dragging, but I still looked better than half the dudes out there.
But that was then, and this is now.
I no longer pick up random chicks and go home with them.
I don’t have a table reserved at my favorite club.
And I’ve stopped trying to drown myself in alcohol.
It’s a very quiet life I’m leading these days. I’ve turned into something of a homebody.
You know what the highlight of my week is now?
Thursday night dinner at Garrison’s place.
I’m not even screwing with you right now. I’m being completely serious.
I look forward to it all week long. Sure, I could pretend and tell myself that it’s because I don’t get home cooked meals very often, but I think we all know that would be a huge lie.
Ever since I bought a house in the same development as Liam, I’ve been invited over for Thursday night dinners with the family. I can’t say that I don’t enjoy it.
And Gia’s cooking is just one of the reasons.
I do legitimately enjoy hanging out with Liam, his wife, and their kids. It’s a chaotic, happy mess most of the time with lots of laughter. Which is a far cry from the stuffy dinners with my own family.
Those are to be endured.
Never enjoyed.
Even at the ripe old age of twenty-five, I still dread being summoned home like an errant child. Although, since I’ve been keeping my nose clean, it doesn’t happen with nearly the same amount of frequency as it once did.
For whatever reason, my father and I have never seen eye to eye. There was a time when I desperately wanted his love. Tried my damnedest to earn it by impressing him in school or out on the field. But that proved to be an impossible task. Once I finally realized that, I stopped seeking out his approval and just started doing what I wanted.
Alright, fine… I’m not going to lie- I’d actually get off a little when I pissed him off. Every time he lost his temper was a point scored for me. Needless to say, the four years I spent in college, plus the first three of my NFL career were spent racking up a shitload of points.
It took me a long time to realize that in my father’s eyes there was only Joe, my brother.
His little mini-me.
Joe can do no wrong.
As much as I wish I could hate Joe for feeling pitted against him, I don’t. The issue I have is with my father, not my brother who is two years older. Most of the time, I have the feeling that my dad doesn’t want Joe and I getting along. It irritates him that we have something of a comradery between us. I think he would be quite happy to forget I existed.
Most of the time, I long for that as well.
I get along fine with my mom, but she doesn’t go against my father. No matter what he says or does, she stands quietly by his side. I spent a lot of years being pissed off that she didn’t do more to protect me from his wrath or try harder to even things out between me and my brother.
But I’m over it.
All I feel now is sorry for her for being married to such an asshole.
So this, the Garrison household… yeah, it’s a far cry from how I grew up. And I love it. Revel in it. Secretly long to be a part of the madness. It has me believing that relationships, marriage, families can be far different from the way I grew up.
Which brings us to Claire.
Even though she barely gives me the time of day, I just like being in the same room with her. I like hearing her talk about her week and the classes she’s taking along with her student teaching placement. I could listen to her talk all night long and never grow tired of the sound of her voice.
I’ll admit that I was kind of hoping she might unbend a little bit with the more time we spent together. Maybe even forget about my past douche behavior. But that has yet to occur.
Even though Liam and I live in the same subdivision, our houses are spread out. I’m a couple miles down the street from his place. Each plot of land is a couple of acres, so there’s a healthy amount of privacy. Liam and I aren’t the only football players who live here. There are about four other families who call this subdivision home.
Instead of walking over, I take my Porsche.
Rapping my knuckles on the front door, I wait for someone to let me in. Already I can hear the chaos unfolding inside. There’s never a dull moment over here, that’s for sure. But that’s also part of the charm. Even standing outside on the front porch, I hear the kids yelling. Laughing. Running around.
A few moments later, Ty finally opens the door. That kid is the spitting image of Liam. Dark hair and large gray eyes framed by thick eyelashes. Although he thankfully doesn’t have his head shaved on the sides like his father does. I’m expecting that’ll come soon enough because he seems to want to be just like his dad.
A huge delighted grin lights up his exuberant face when he sees me. Before I can even blink my eyes, he’s hurtling his solid little body into my arms. The Superman cape he has on fans out behind him.
Apparently, he won’t take the damn thing off. Will only do it to go in the pool and even that’s a battle. Gia had to tell him on Monday at the barbecue, that if he wore it in the pool, it would end up in the washing machine and he wouldn’t be able to wear it for a couple of hours. You should have seen the indecision flicker across his small face. It took a good five minutes of internal debate, but he finally opted to part with it for the sixty minutes he was splashing around in the water.
“Hey, Superman. Any problems with Batman?
“Nah.” Looking completely serious, he shakes his head. “Just Charlotte.” Then he deadpans, “Mom says she’s a real pain in
the butt sometimes.”
His words bring an easy grin to my face. Charlotte, at three, is nothing short of a handful. And she does her damnedest to keep up with her older brother. Which he alternately loves and hates. Sometimes he likes having a cohort to get into trouble with and other times he just wants to be sneaky and get into trouble all by his lonesome.
Shutting the massive eight-foot front door, I carry him in my arms to the huge kitchen with all its white cabinets, white marble, and stainless steel appliances where it sounds like everyone has gathered. Unlike my own home growing up, the Garrison kitchen always seems to be where the hub of activity is. Kind of like a bee hive.
Gia enjoys cooking, and it seems like the kids are usually munching away on something or other. Although I’ve noticed that it’s mostly fresh fruits and vegetables. Gia has a big garden out back, and the kids enjoy going out with baskets and picking whatever produce they’re growing.
I think I like hanging around here because you can tell just how much they all love one another. Gia and Liam seem to genuinely enjoy their growing family. Again, far different than the environment I was reared in. I spent more time with our housekeeper than anyone else. The woman is like a second mother to me… or maybe a first.
Just like always, my eyes are instantly drawn to Claire as I walk into the brightly lit room. I’m guessing that’s why it takes me a moment or two to notice that there’s someone else here in the kitchen besides the normal Garrison bunch.
What the hell…
This is just supposed to be a family thing.
And, you know… me.
Who invited the interloper?
“Hey man, want something to drink?”
I glance at Liam. “Sure, water’s fine.”
He tosses me an ice-cold bottle from the fridge. I catch it with one hand. Because Ty is still wrapped around my upper body like a barnacle, I’m unable to open the bottle.
“Here, buddy. Can you use some of that superhuman strength and pry the lid off for me?”
If You Were Mine Page 3
