Saints and Sinners: The Complete Series

by Eden Butler

For Ryder, that irritation—the noise, the whining, not just from the kids, and the demands for his attention felt like a weight crushing his skull.

  And then, there was Greer.

  Greer who decided late August, just before the first regular season game, was the perfect time to grab everyone’s attention. She did this by layering pink and purple into her platinum blonde hair and having a little adjustment done to her tits. Turns out the eight grand she told Ryder she needed to fix her car was for her new adjustments, both of which she decided to show off at the first Little Steamers practice.

  “Holy. Shit.” He heard, wincing when Wilson’s loud voice carried over the crowd. “Man, seriously?” he said, nodding toward the gate entrance where Greer walked through, her black, tight capris sticking to her like grease. On her feet were three-inch high wedges that she managed to navigate in, swishing her hips as she hurried onto the field, waving and blowing kisses at the other WAGs as she passed them.

  “Brah…” Pukui started, standing next to Wilson and Ryder as the quarterback tried to block out his girlfriend with the clipboard in his hands. The chart in front of him listed last year’s roster and the status of their participation in the camp. “I’m not trying to tell you your business, man, but…”

  “Then don’t,” Ryder said, snapping at Kai and Wilson before he moved along the field, throwing glances toward the crowd of kids circling Pérez and Reese, neither who seemed able to control their groups.

  “Baby!” Greer cried, trailing after Ryder as he hurried past the throng of people. Glances shot his way, and despite the attention that always greeted him—attention he should be used to— Ryder’s face flamed, and he averted looking anyone in the eyes.

  “Honey,” she continued to call, then smiled, her red lips overlined and ridiculous. He supposed she was experimenting with some new look, at least that’s what she’d admitted to him two days before when she cornered him the parking garage, and he immediately noticed her two new adjustments. Ryder would never begrudge anyone from wanting to make themselves feel better by having plastic surgery, but this? This was Dolly Parton on steroids.

  “I did it for you,” she explained, motioning to the deep well that made up her cleavage. “They’re for you.”

  “Um…thanks?” he asked, not sure how to react to the huge double up in cup size. She had to be sore and there was no way the size was good for her back.

  It had been two days and Ryder, at Greer’s insistence, had touched them, and kissed them, and still wasn’t used to the mammoth size or the feel of something not quite real behind that swollen skin.

  “Ryder,” Greer called again, and he clenched his jaw, finally turning to face her. She hurried toward him, those huge tits bouncing and nearly slipping out of the gold and white, low cut halter she wore.

  “What?” he asked, shifting a look around the field. The glances were outright gawks now, and the embarrassment Ryder felt grew heavier as Greer threw her arms around him, kissing Ryder hard. He wasn’t feeling it. Not now. Not this public. “Knock it off.”

  When he pushed her back, arm in his grip, Greer’s good mood deflated. “What the hell is your problem?”

  “You’re embarrassing yourself with those…” He turned, mouth tight as he fought for the right words. None came to him, at least none that would start an even bigger scene than the one Greer made walking onto the field. “Can you just…go sit down and try to be inconspicuous?” One glance down at her oversized chest and Ryder knew the question was stupid.

  “Why are you so…” Then Greer went silent, staring across the field, her attention on Reese standing next to Baker, laughing at something the big man said. “She’s here?”

  Ryder turned, instantly spotting Reese, hand curling in a fist when he noticed how close Baker stood to her, how loudly she laughed. Greer cleared her throat, bringing Ryder’s attention back to her, and he frowned at the look she gave him.

  “What?”

  “You’re awfully interested in what she’s doing.”

  “Yeah? So? We’re supposed to be working together to get this camp on a roll.” He turned from Greer, heading toward Reese and Baker, spotting the kicker’s wide smile, then her shifting gaze as it landed on Greer. Her gaze moved down, over Greer’s body, and the smile left her face.

  “You told me you didn’t like her,” she said, struggling to keep step with him. “You said she was a bitch and that you didn’t want…”

  “I know what I said.” He stopped, turning to Greer, not hiding the surge of temper that caught him by surprise. “I don’t have time for this shit, and I don’t have to explain myself.”

  “But you said…”

  “Greer!” he shouted, teeth clamping together as he fought against screaming outright. “This is my livelihood. This is my career.” He took a breath, squeezing his eyes shut before he nodded to the field, next to a section of seats reserved for the WAGs. “Go sit and let me do my job.”

  She’d never been this way before. Greer wasn’t the jealous type. She wasn’t a shit starter, and she’d never before wanted so much of Ryder’s attention. It was like some strange, petty woman had taken over his girlfriend’s body and had no plans of leaving.

  Ryder didn’t look behind him to see where Greer had gone. He didn’t make sure she’d joined the other women or yell over his shoulder for her to leave him alone. His temper was stoked, and he just wanted the day over with. That meant dealing with Reese, whom Gia had partnered him with for this camp. He’d rather spend the day with anyone else in the world, but this was punishment, plain and simple. This was payment for the shit storm they’d caused Reese’s first night on the team.

  But the kiss between them, and how it had confused Ryder, flooded his thoughts the closer she came to him. It was a lot to contend with—realizing she’d never gotten over Rhiannon’s death, understanding that she still hurt from it, and finally having her respond and give back what Ryder had stolen from her in the gym.

  He should feel guilt. Somehow, that made more sense to him. Hating Reese had been a constant emotion that made him feel at least something that kept him aware he was still alive. Now, though, there wasn’t much more running through him but anger and disappointment, with himself, and a hell of a lot of confusion.

  “Noble,” he said, nodding her to him when he came a few feet close to where she and Baker stood talking. When she returned Ryder’s nod, not looking in a hurry to join him as they went through the kids they wanted for their teams, that unfamiliar confusion shifted, and his temper bubbled up again. “Noble. Now.”

  That sharp demand earned him a glare from the woman, which she quickly removed from her face, and a few low mutters from the kids around him. He saw their confusion—it was in the tension around their eyes and mouth, in how they whispered to each other, low and quiet as they gossiped, and stared at Ryder like something bad had waddled into his brain and made him act hateful and grumpy.

  Something had, he realized, and that something walked right toward him.

  He expected Reese’s irritation to show in her features, or at least in her attitude, but when she stood in front of him, back straight, friendly smile greeting him, Ryder recognized the expression. This was her and the forced calm he remembered well, presented in front of the entire field. This was Reese saving face, while something angry and livid brewed beneath the surface.

  “Ryder,” she said, waving to a few kids that spotted her and called after her. Then, she gave the quarterback all her attention, keeping her voice level, and that forced smile stretching her lips. She patted his shoulder, an easy gesture that made it seem like they were just teammates, just co-workers doing a job. Ryder knew the truth and, shit, was it scary.

  Reese blinked, eyes relaxing and lit bright as she watched him. “I understand you are not feeling it today,” she said, her face shifting, moving from smile to smirk and back again despite the threat he knew would come. When it did, it would be delivered by someone who could curse your name and all your future hope
s with the sweetest, welcoming smile. “I don’t think any of us want to be in the heat dealing with all these loud,” she waved to the kids, laughing and winking at a few, “obnoxious kids who can’t seem to follow directions to save their lives.”

  She watched him again, folding her arms, moving her shoe against the dried, white paint outlining the field. “But if you ever yell at me like I’m some simple bitch willing to run and jump when you whistle again…” Reese’s smile was the widest he’d ever seen it and she shrugged, managing a sweet, amused laugh she didn’t mean, “then I’ll kick you so hard in the balls you’ll get an instant appreciation for just how rough the life of a regulation football is when it’s sent soaring by a hundred and forty-five pounds of Reese Noble quad power.” She nodded once. “K? Great,” she said, then patted his face with a swift, hard tap that stung more than either of them let on. Reese returned to the kids, spending the rest of the afternoon pretending that all was right and perfect in the world.

  THERE WAS three days until the first game of the regular season. Before that, Ryder would have to contend with another Little Steamers’ camp, and he hoped to God it would go better than the first. Reese had spent most of the day ignoring him. Greer had done much of the same, and because of Ryder’s attitude, his other teammates and a few fans weren’t exactly thrilled with his grumpiness. He supposed he deserved their cold shoulders.

  “Glenn.” He heard, head turning as one of the assistants came into the nearly-empty gym Ryder was just finishing up in. The man stepped three feet into the main weight area and threw a pointed thumb over his shoulder. “You got company.”

  The assistant turned, tipping his black Steamers ball cap at the man waiting for Ryder, and then disappeared. The air froze in Ryder’s chest, and he instantly dropped his cell and earbuds, walking away from the weight bench as he met the man near the entrance.

  “Coach?” Ryder said, extending a hand that he wasn’t sure Reese’s father would take.

  “Knucklehead,” the man greeted, shaking Ryder’s hand. “There somewhere we can speak?”

  “Yeah,” he told Coach Noble, drying his face with a towel before he directed the older man through the gym and down the hallway leading to the locker rooms and the nearly empty equipment area in the back.

  The place was abandoned except for a few managers and assistants that greeted them with nods before they lugged their equipment from the room and shut the door behind them. Ryder felt sticky and exhausted, but still managed to smile at the coach when the old man walked into the room, slipping the door shut behind him.

  Ryder felt his insides start to bubble. At one time, this man had meant everything to him. He’d been a mentor and coach, a father and friend, and Ryder had done to him, to his whole family, what he’d accused Reese of doing a few weeks ago—he’d left them all behind without a single word of goodbye.

  It had been ten years since Ryder and Coach Noble had been close enough to speak. Ryder guessed there were words the man wanted to say, and he dared the quarterback with one sharp look to stop him. The looming lecture was a long time in the making.

  “I can find you something to drink,” Ryder tried, feeling awkward and useless as he stood across a small, oblong table filled with duffle bags and plastic bottles with the Steamers’ logos across the front.

  Coach’s reply was a low grunt and a simple head shake before he moved in front of Ryder. “You made me a promise,” he told the quarterback, his face unreadable, but then, it always had been. Coach Noble had the best poker face of anyone Ryder had ever known.

  He waited, wondering if his former coach would continue, but then nodded, hurrying to explain himself when nothing else was spoken. “Yes, sir,” he told him, fanning his fingers through his wet hair. “I did.”

  Noble nodded, standing tall and strong, his still-wide and muscular frame seeming a little imposing to Ryder as it always had been. The coach might be older, he might be nearing retirement from his position at Duke, but that didn’t mean he was weak in the least.

  “I taught you everything I knew back then.” Ryder nodded, agreeing, but didn’t interrupt as the coach walked further in, standing in front of the quarterback, feet apart, and his arms crossed. “But maybe I forgot something.”

  Ryder frowned, wondering what had the coach doubting how he’d trained Ryder. “What did you leave out?”

  Coach waited a half second, pausing just enough that Ryder couldn’t keep holding his breath. When the old man spoke, his voice was deep, and those three syllables rattled something inside the quarterback. “Loyalty.”

  That one stung, the single word wounding like a bat straight to the gut. “Coach…”

  “You and your parents, you were all lost.” His tone softened like just the mention of how Ryder’s family had been when Rhiannon died gave them all some leeway in the coach’s eyes. He shook his head, as though bringing back the memories Ryder fought so hard to keep buried deep. “Anyone would be if that happened to their family. But you three were like boats drifting in a hurricane with no one to anchor you. If you’d have let her, my daughter could have anchored all of you. Hell, me and Roni could have. But you, son, you just walked away.” He moved his head, as though he still couldn’t believe how everything had ended. “You didn’t look back. Gotta be honest. That burned me. It burned me for a long time.”

  “Coach…”

  Noble waved his hand, a quick gesture that could have been a demand for silence but his slow nod told Ryder he only wanted to be heard. “I understand loss, Glenn. I’ve felt it deep down, but I’ll never understand walking away from people you love. No matter what happens, nothing should kill that.”

  Ryder didn’t like how this felt—the memories, the fact that Coach had come to finally call him out on how badly he’d hurt the man and his family. He didn’t want the guilt that burned inside his stomach now as Reese’s father stepped back, leaning against the table. Ryder didn’t back down from the old man’s stare but couldn’t keep his expression even. Coach just knew him too well.

  “It was a long time ago, and I was a hurt kid,” he tried, knowing the excuse sounded as stupid and useless to Coach as it had to Ryder’s own ears.

  He didn’t miss a beat. “You still a hurt kid?”

  “No, sir. I don’t think so.”

  “Right.” One quick nod and Coach motioned for Ryder to sit in the chair next to him. The silent request got answered without hesitation, and Ryder pulled out a metal chair from the table, moving it back so he could look at the old man evenly. Noble narrowed his eyes, watching Ryder but took a while to finish what he wanted to say. “So, what’s stopped you since you quit being that hurt kid?”

  Ryder had no excuse. He had no reasons that wouldn’t make him sound pathetic and stupid. Hatred had cradled him. It kept him from the loss he felt. Coach knew it. He could probably read Ryder better than anyone, but he wouldn’t mention it. Not just yet.

  Then, Noble delivered the accusation that Ryder could find no words to deny. “You fought against her being on this team.” Ryder nodded, leaning on his knees, not able to meet the coach’s eyes. Still, the man continued. “You were pretty damn loud about it, and then she gets here and you’re still loud about her on your field.”

  He glanced up, shooting his eyebrows up because denying the truth felt like his first instinct. “There were other things…”

  “I don’t much care about what those other things were. If you were still on my team and some walk-on kid comes around, looking at you to lead her, and you tell her to fuck off in front of media and fans and more importantly teammates? I’d knocked you on your ass on sheer principle.” Ryder winced, hating the slow glare that twisted the old man’s features. “That’s not how I trained you to be, son. Not remotely.”

  He could deny it. Maybe Ryder could spend the next few minutes trying to convince the coach that things got twisted, that Reese had gotten on him and wouldn’t back off, that he had no choice but to put her in her place. But Noble wouldn’t stan
d for that, and as much as Ryder didn’t want to admit it, the man was right.

  Ryder took his medicine because he needed it. Each accusation the coach leveled at him, he owned completely. “No, sir,” he said, looking back down. “That’s not how you trained me to be.”

  “Glad you see that. Hope you can remember that the next time you think you can’t keep that promise to me.”

  There was a hope in that statement that Ryder didn’t think belonged there. The coach hadn’t ever been a fan of Ryder and Reese together. He’d put up a fight until he realized he’d lost the battle of wills before it had started. After that, Coach just looked the other way anytime Reese and Ryder were around each other. He’d have never thought the old man would expect them to get anywhere near to how they’d been before.

  So why the hell did the unspoken acceptance make Ryder a little happy? When he looked back up at Coach, saw the blank stare, the warm eyes, he realized he couldn’t string him along. There was no hope to give him.

  “Coach, it’s not…Reese and me, we aren’t…”

  He shut his eyes, head shaking to keep Ryder silent. “What you are with my daughter got nothing to do with me. But you know what does?” He didn’t bother to let Ryder answer. The coach stood, folding his arms again as he walked to the window at the back of the room. There was a clear view of the stadium beyond that glass.

  “When you get out on that field, around those fans and media and act like some common rookie with his dick hard from the high he gets off the power handed to him, that reflects poorly on the coaches and owners who sign your check.” He turned, and the calm expression had gone. Now there was a tight frown and a glare that made Ryder stand, like a soldier getting a reprimand from his commanding officer. “More importantly, it reflects poorly on me and how I trained you. That shit stops now.”

  The old man’s tone was loud, sharp, and though Ryder respected him, he couldn’t let him think there was only one reason for yelling at Reese. “If this is about Reese.”