Kickoff

by Jami Davenport

  “She left a few at Rachel’s. How’d you get it?”

  Tyler squirmed, and not much made Tyler squirm. He lowered his voice.

  “Cass left it in her car. I borrowed it.”

  “You’ve been stalking Cass. You broke into her car?”

  “No, it’s not like that.”

  Derek shook his head. “You’re not really reading it?”

  “It’s a very good book.”

  “Ty, you barely read the sports section, let alone anything closely resembling a book.”

  “I’m educating myself.”

  “On what?”

  “You told me yourself. These are the types of books Cass reads. Obviously, she got something out of them.”

  “I’m sure she does.”

  “Dumb shit.” Tyler rummaged through his locker for some tape.

  “So, you think you’re going to pick up some pointers by reading it.” Derek pushed closer, purposely getting in Tyler’s space just to needle him.

  “Well, fuck yeah. You’d be surprised. Plus, it’s great company on lonely nights.” Tyler pushed on his chest, moving him back a step.

  “Now that’s just plain sick.” If Tyler only knew how many lonely nights he’d found a similar book good company.

  “Hey, I’ve been celibate for two weeks. I gotta get off somehow.” Finding the tape, he plopped onto a bench and started taping his ankle.

  “You, celibate? Isn’t that an oxymoron?”

  “Are you calling me a moron?”

  Derek rolled his eyes. “Are you really that dense?”

  “Huh?” Tyler frowned, looking somewhat confused. “Anyway, you should read this book.”

  Derek had already read a similar one by Kat Mizera, but Tyler didn’t need to know that either.

  “Women eat up this stuff. These books are their fantasies about how they wish men really behaved.” Tyler faked concentration on wrapping the tape around his ankle.

  “So, you’re going to change your behavior?” Derek was certain that he’d been dropped down a rabbit hole or something. Tyler reading romance novels? Next thing he knew, one of America’s hottest bachelors would be signing up for online dating. It boggled his mind.

  “I’m always open to new seduction techniques.” Tyler regarded the mess he’d made of the tape job and unwrapped it.

  “Since when do you need a seduction technique other than crooking your little finger?”

  “A guy can always improve.”

  Derek snorted. “You miss her, don’t you?”

  “What the fuck are you talking about? I just don’t like to be the one that gets dumped. That doesn’t happen to me.” After his fourth bungled attempt at wrapping, Tyler waved a trainer over.

  “Bullshit. That’s not it.”

  Tyler turned his back on his cousin and started pulling stuff out of his locker. “Know what, we’ve got a football game. I don’t need this shit.” Tyler sat back down and let the trainer wrap his ankle.

  “You’re a dumb ass, you know.”

  “Fuck off. Don’t fucking lecture me when you’re just as much of a dumb ass.” His cousin smirked at him, indulging in a little unsportsmanlike conduct.

  “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “You’re a smart guy. You actually earned your college degree, so you figure it out.”

  Chapter 17—Sacking the Quarterback

  Rachel opened the door for Mitch. He looked like he’d been on an all-night bender. Wordlessly, he walked in and slumped into a chair. He grunted, his eyes glued to the football game on her TV.

  Rachel suspected he wouldn’t be able to tell her which two teams were playing. She braced herself for another lecture about Derek, yet something told her more was wrong. For one, her brother looked like he’d been mauled by Simon.

  She swallowed to rid her mouth of the metallic taste and feared the worst. “Would you like a beer?”

  Another grunt. Not having a clue if he’d grunted yes or no, she took a beer out of the refrigerator and popped the top. Reaching for a glass, she bumped the bottle; it bobbled on the counter. Rachel dived for it, which sent it flying off the counter onto the floor. Darn it. At least it didn’t break.

  Rachel grabbed a handful of paper towels and bent to wipe up the mess. She braced herself for the razzing that always followed one of her klutz incidents. Mitch didn’t say a word. Charlie hopped down from his perch on the bookcase and lapped at the beer. Just what she needed, a drunk cat. She shooed him away.

  “Is everything okay?” Rachel studied him with concern as she handed him a new beer and an opener. Mitch accepted the bottle and opened it with jerky, mechanical motions and stared straight ahead. She waved a hand in front of his face. He didn’t blink. His mussed hair stood up on end. The dark circles under his eyes were the only color on his face. He looked haggard, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks.

  “It’s not Dad, is it?” Her insides tangled around each other, making it hard to breathe. Her imagination raced through several scenarios, each one worse than the previous one.

  Without looking up, Mitch shook his head. Relief rushed through her. “Mitch, are you having problems at work? Is it a woman?”

  “Oh, hell, I wish it were that simple.” He finally met her gaze, his eyes filled with agony.

  “It’s not?” She touched his shoulder in a small gesture of concern.

  “Hell no.” He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration.

  “Would you care to enlighten me?”

  “I need a favor. From Derek.” He spoke as if the words burned a hole in his tongue.

  “From Derek? What kind of favor?” She breathed deeply and morphed into concerned sister mode, even though she considered him somewhat dramatic. A favor from Derek didn’t qualify as a traumatic event in her book.

  “Fuck.” He buried his head in his hands.

  “That’s not really a favor, and I don’t think he swings both ways.”

  Mitch lifted his head, irritation etched across his face. Obviously, her attempt at humor fell flat.

  “This is serious.”

  “If it involves his time, I’m not sure he has any to give. He’s spread thin to the point of breaking right now. Everyone wants a piece of him.”

  “I was afraid of that.”

  Rachel sobered at his haunted expression. She ached to put her arm around his shoulders, to hug him, but the males in her family had never been touchy-feely types.

  Mitch buried his head in his hands. Rachel waited as her strong brother composed himself. Finally, he lifted his head and met her gaze, his own eyes filled with anguish.

  “It’s about Ryan DeGrazio.”

  “Ryan? Your hotshot quarterback?”

  “Yeah. Haven’t you noticed he’s not playing?”

  She looked away. “I noticed, and I meant to ask you about him. I remember him from last year. Enough talent to go to a big college, maybe even pro. Incredible football instincts. Great arm. Good size—”

  “Rachel.” He stared at her.

  “Sorry, I can’t help it. I just think that way.”

  He shook his head and stared heavenward. “You should have been born a man.”

  “About Ryan?”

  Mitch rubbed his hands back and forth on his thighs. He swallowed and cleared his throat but didn’t look at her. “Ryan said he felt off at the beginning of the season. He wasn’t playing well. No energy. Fatigued too easily. Getting sick to his stomach. We thought it was some type of flu or ulcers. God knows the kid has plenty to worry about, but it kept getting worse. I finally talked him into seeing a doctor a month ago. He has cancer. Stage four. They give him six months or less. He just turned eighteen.” Mitch choked on the last few sentences.

  “Oh, Mitch. I’m so sorry.” She sat on the arm of his chair and put her hand on his shoulder.

  “Yeah, so am I.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. He turned his head to meet her gaze. His bloodshot eyes were rimmed with tears.

  “Derek is his hero.
He wants to meet him.”

  “Derek rather than Tyler. I mean, he is a quarterback.”

  “Yeah, Derek is his idol. Not that he isn’t a big fan of Tyler’s, too, because he is.”

  “Ryan is the one you took under your wing a few years ago.”

  “That’s the one. Single mother. When she’s not bartending, she barhops. Father in jail. I think Ryan has spent more time at my house over the years than at his own. I’ve coached him since junior high.”

  “Against all the odds, he’s a good kid.”

  “You have to know how hard it is for me to ask this of Derek. I’m not a huge fan of his.”

  Closing her eyes for a moment and regretting what she had to do, she did it anyway. “You need to ask him yourself.”

  “I can’t ask him. I can’t. Who says he’d listen?”

  Rachel glanced out the window of her house as headlights shone in her driveway.

  Mitch read her face. “That’s him, isn’t it?”

  “He’s bringing some tape by for us to watch together.” She smiled demurely at Mitch, the picture of innocence.

  His skeptical expression told it all. He didn’t believe her. She wasn’t sure she believed herself anymore.

  A sharp rap on her door caused her brother to raise one eyebrow, but he bit his tongue. Sighing, Rachel opened the door. “Dare, come in.”

  “Who’s parked out—” Derek took two steps in the door and stopped in his tracks when he saw Mitch. For a moment, they studied each other, like defensive and offensive linemen sizing each other up.

  “Sorry, I didn’t realize you had company. I’ll leave. Here’s the game tapes.” He put the thumb drive on the counter and turned toward the door, hand on the knob when Rachel called to him.

  “Derek, Mitch has something to ask you.”

  Derek opened his mouth, seemed to reconsider, and snapped it shut. He focused his attention on Mitch.

  Mitch had the look of a man forced to do the one thing he didn’t want to do. “I need a favor.”

  “You need a favor?” Derek’s reply was wary, as if he were walking into a trap.

  “Mitch needs help. It’ll only take a minute to hear him out.” Rachel pleaded with her eyes. Derek’s expression softened a little as he looked at her. His look wasn’t lost on her brother. Mitch’s jaw twitched, and his eyes lit on fire, yet he gathered his control about him. He explained about Ryan and his cancer. “Last year he was my first-string quarterback, and we made it all the way to the state semifinals.”

  Derek’s defensive expression disappeared. His gaze flicked to Rachel, concern gentling his dark eyes. He nodded to encourage Mitch to continue.

  Her heart wrapped itself around this compassionate man, who found it hard to say no to people in need, while guilt ate at her insides and denial raged in her brain. Derek wasn’t a man who’d drop her father for a loss. Was he?

  “We dedicated this year to him. The team hasn’t lost a game, and Ryan’s attended every one of them. He’s a hard-core Cougar and Steelheads fan. You’re his hero.”

  “Me?” Derek pointed at his own chest as if he couldn’t imagine being anyone’s hero. “I don’t deserve the title.”

  “You won’t get any argument from me on that subject.” Mitch almost smiled. Derek did.

  “What do you need? An autographed football?”

  “Uh, I was hoping for more than that.”

  “Okay. What?” Derek’s expression turned wary.

  “He’s a quarterback. He wants to throw you a pass.”

  “Oh.” Derek looked away. For a minute, Rachel worried he might actually decide to choose this precise time to practice saying no.

  Looking back at them, he cleared his throat. “I don’t have any time this week. I’ll see what I can do in the next couple of weeks.”

  “Whatever you can manage.” Mitch’s frown indicated he doubted Derek would spare the time it took to run one play, but Rachel knew him better than that.

  Chapter 18—Tripped Up

  Blowing out a breath, Derek spotted Mitch McCormick standing on the sidelines of the high school’s football field. He strode toward him.

  Never let ’em see you sweat. Especially not Rachel’s brother. Coming here was hard for him, not just because of his crazy schedule, but because of how much Mitch disliked him, and how much he hated being deceptive regarding his relationship with the man’s sister.

  Yeah, he’d done Rachel wrong in her family’s eyes. Perhaps even worse, he’d built up her confidence and encouraged independence they’d never allowed her to have. He’d undermined their control over her.

  She was supposed to stay the dutiful little sister, waiting on the men in her family and not entertaining stupid ambitions of being a woman in a man’s sport. Maybe Derek had shot her down when she’d confessed her feelings, but he’d never shot down her dreams and ambitions.

  As he approached, Mitch watched with his legs braced, hands folded over his chest. His expression remained closed, unreadable. The assistant standing next to McCormick grinned from ear to ear. The rest of the coaching staff gathered near Mitch with an expression of disbelief. The cheerleaders across the field froze in mid-cheer and stared at him.

  Mitch’s team was suited up in their practice uniforms and doing their warm-ups on the field. Following their coaches’ lead, they stopped what they were doing as a unit and turned toward him. Every eye on the football field focused on his walk across the field.

  Derek knew his tall, exceptionally fit body branded him as a professional athlete. Despite being comfortable on a football field in front of thousands of fans, he wasn’t entirely comfortable in the limelight. Unlike Tyler, Derek took his job as a role model seriously, putting even more pressure on himself.

  Mitch broke away from the group and strode toward him. The relief on his face was clear even from a distance. He hadn’t expected Derek to follow through.

  They met halfway in the middle of the field, out of earshot of his staff and players.

  “Hey.” Derek held out his hand, making the first move. He had nothing to prove by being an asshole. He’d leave that up to Rachel’s brother. Mitch hesitated, then shook his hand.

  “I’d just about given up on you.” He met Derek’s gaze.

  “Sorry, my schedule’s pretty tight.” Derek forced his voice to remain neutral. Mitch didn’t need to know how hard this was for him.

  “We won’t take too much of your time.”

  “I’m all yours for the next two hours.” Derek pointed at the bulging duffel slung over his shoulder. “I brought some stuff. T-shirts, hats, should be enough for everyone.”

  Mitch glanced at the bag. “Yeah, well, I appreciate that, but it doesn’t change anything between us.”

  “I don’t expect it to. One doesn’t have anything to do with the other.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  Derek bristled but held his tongue. “You asked me to come, and I’m here. Introduce me to your staff, and let’s get this show on the road.”

  Mitch stiffened but nodded and led the way back to the sidelines. Derek dumped the heavy duffel bag on the grass and waited for introductions. Mitch ran through each of his assistants, pausing to bark instructions to his players. “Hey, quit staring! Get back to work. Now! Everyone, run four laps around the field. Move it! Then get your butts back here.”

  Derek grinned in spite of himself. “You sound like your dad.”

  “Do I?” Mitch almost smiled himself.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “I would. He was the best. I learned my basics from him.”

  Mitch tensed all the more. “You owed him.”

  His assistants stared at the two men, looking ready to intervene if necessary.

  “Excuse me?” Derek frowned, confused by whatever the hell Mitch was talking about.

  “You know what I mean,” Mitch growled, his voice low and menacing. “Do the right thing.”

  Shaking h
is head, he blew Mitch off and turned toward the field. Derek nodded in the direction of the kid maneuvering his wheelchair toward them. “That’s him?”

  Mitch deflated faster than a beach ball bouncing off a porcupine. “Yeah. Ryan DeGrazio.” The two men exchanged looks, which said it all.

  Wiping the sympathy from his face, Derek walked out to meet Ryan. The kid’s face lit up with boyish excitement. Sadness sliced through Derek, along with anger toward the unfairness of life. He covered his feelings with an easy smile.

  “Wow. It is you.” The kid stared up at him, eyes wide and full of hero worship. Derek rubbed his hands on his thighs and shifted his stance, feeling inadequate and undeserving. He’d been naturally gifted with an athlete’s body. Ryan had had one too—he could tell—until the disease started winning. Yet the kid’s blue eyes sparkled with life in defiance of the hand he’d been dealt. Ryan was a fighter. His fighting spirit was written all over his face.

  “Hey, Ryan, how ya doin’?”

  Ryan grasped the sides of his wheelchair. His arms shook from the effort as he hoisted himself to his feet. Derek resisted the urge to help the kid as he struggled to stand. He didn’t want him to lose face, but he stood close just in case he needed to catch him.

  “I’m doing a lot better now.” He shook Derek’s hand, surprising him with the strength of his grip. The weary tension on Ryan’s face told the story. As he stood up straight, his body swayed like a willow in the wind. Once at his full height, they were almost eye to eye.

  “I understand you’ve got a hell of an arm.”

  “Had.” Ryan looked away, biting his lower lip.

  “Wanna give it a shot?”

  “Yeah, I’d like that.” The kid lifted his gaze, and his eyes lit up.

  The hassle he’d gone through to squeeze in a few hours for this kid and his team was suddenly worth it. Derek lobbed a football to Ryan, who managed to catch it. Ryan studied the ball and all the signatures on it and looked up with a question in his eyes.

  “The game ball from last weekend. Tell you what, when we make the playoffs, you can trade it in for a playoff ball.”

  “Super Bowl ball.” Ryan’s blue eyes held his in a steady gaze. Derek glimpsed a teasing light in them.