Hot Read: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Book 5)

by Jami Davenport

  “Mom, aren’t you lonely?”

  A wicked gleam came into her mother’s eyes. “I wouldn’t be if my children would give me some grandchildren.”

  Estie had to laugh. “Mom, that’s a major guilt trip.”

  “Whatever works.” Her mother sobered. “Estie, is Brett your forever love?”

  “I don’t know.” Estie ignored Freddie’s rude snort.

  “I do. I saw how you looked at each other. Trust me. I know that look. There’s someone for everyone, but you get to choose whether to act on your instincts or deny them.”

  “He’s going to play for a team too far from a vet school.”

  “Then he can go to another team, or you can wait until his career is over. Estie, you have all your life ahead of you. You can go to a vet-tech school, work as a vet tech, and pursue the vet degree later.”

  “I’m a control freak, and he’s quiet and reserved and keeps secrets.”

  “He’s slow to trust. He needs time to open up. With love you can work through anything.”

  “Do you really believe that?” Estie didn’t see it that way. She saw it as a possible disaster in the making.

  “I don’t need to believe it. You do. You can make it work if you’re both committed. Your head and your family have been making your choices. It’s time to make choices from your heart.”

  The truth slammed into Estie with the speed of a line drive between second and third base. It threw her for a loop. “And Brett’s that choice.” It was so simple. So obvious. So true. Plans could change. She’d already been forced to change them once. That didn’t mean she couldn’t change them again if the reward was big enough. Only she couldn’t let him know. Not yet. Not while he was deciding what team to go to. He had to think they were through until he made the right decision for him. That’s what you did when you loved someone. You made sacrifices, and you trusted in love to eventually win it all.

  Her mother just smiled, and Estie knew she’d finally gotten it right.

  Freddie sighed. “I guess you’ll be needing those Super Bowl tickets after all.”

  Estie had made most of her life’s decisions by committee, and now she’d abolished that committee, though it didn’t hurt that two members of her committee had already voted yes. Their approval bolstered her confidence, but she didn’t let it control her actions. Not anymore.

  She’d go to the game because she couldn’t miss out on Brett’s shining moment. She had to be there for him, even if he didn’t know she was there for him. She’d keep her distance until he made his decision, as much as it broke her heart to do so. Now she needed to clear the air with Sylvia. She hadn’t seen her friend since the shutdown of the rescue other than a few stilted conversations.

  She sat in Sylvia’s waiting room on a dreary Seattle day, needing to make amends. Her friend embraced her grudges, and despite words to the contrary, Estie was afraid she held her somewhat responsible in the demise of the rescue.

  Too busy with patients to talk, she made Estie wait until all the patients had gone. The staff had left too.

  Finally, Sylvia came out from the back. “Come on back; I’m just finishing up checking on a few animals that are in here for the night.”

  Estie followed her and waited yet again. She fidgeted and cleared her dry throat, just wanting to get it over with.

  Sylvia finished her chores and stood before her, arms crossed over her chest and her generous mouth drawn in a fine line. “So spill it.”

  “You’re mad at me.” Estie threw Sylvia’s directness back at her.

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Everything. You’ve been avoiding me. I’m sorry about what happened. I really am.” Estie’s last words came out in a strangled choke.

  Sylvia walked to a window and stared out it, hands clasped behind her back, and Estie waited—not so patiently—for a response.

  Eventually, Sylvia’s shoulders rose and fell as she heaved a heavy sigh. She turned back around. “I know it’s not your fault. I’m sorry if I blamed you, and I won’t lie. I was blaming you because it was easier than blaming myself. I knew your relationship with Richard was precarious. My sisters and I should’ve sought other funding instead of getting complacent with the Michaels’ generous contributions.” Sylvia met Estie’s gaze. “I’m sorry too. I’ve missed you.”

  Estie swallowed and nodded. “I’ve missed you too. I have news.”

  “Let’s hear it, girl.” Sylvia smiled like the old Sylvia, and just like that, all was forgiven and forgotten.

  “I’m doing it. I’m planning to start at UC Davis in the summer to finish pre-vet requirements.”

  Sylvia threw her arms around her friend and squealed. “You have a job here as soon as you finish. It’s so hard to find good vets. We’d be a great team.”

  “You don’t know how much that means to me, Syl.” Estie nodded. “We have been a great team, and we will be again.”

  “Yes, we will.”

  Estie wiped tears from her eyes. “I’m finally following my dreams, and I’m going after Brett. I might have to put vet school on hold for a few years, but I’ll get my vet tech certification and some real experience working in a vet clinic.”

  “Great ideas. You have plenty of time.”

  “I know, but I get impatient.”

  “Going after Brett is where you need to be impatient. That man won’t wait around forever. He’s too vulnerable when it comes to females. You wait too long, and he’ll have erected one hell of a security system around his heart, and you’ll never get back in. Even worse, he’ll never get out.”

  “I love him. I want to work side by side with him for animal causes.”

  “I wish I could find a man like that.” Sylvia’s smile slipped off her face momentarily.

  “You can, Syl, and you will. Keep looking, but look in the right place, not the wrong places.”

  “Show me the right place then get out of my way, sister.”

  Estie laughed. “As a wise woman once told me, it’s time to make choices from your heart.”

  “Words well spoken.”

  Estie hugged her friend again, feeling better than she had in years.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Super Sunday

  San Diego. Super Bowl Sunday. Brett’s life couldn’t get much better than this, with the exception of one vital missing piece. But today he would not allow himself to think about missing pieces. Instead, he stood on the field in an almost empty stadium and attempted to imagine what this place would be like in an hour.

  He tossed the ball back and forth with Derek to warm up his arm. Ramsey loped across the field for a longer pass, which he caught so smoothly you’d think the guy was cradling a baby in his arms. Brett almost smiled. Soon Derek would be the first of the guys he hung out with to have a baby.

  He’d bet Estie couldn’t wait to become an aunt. God, why did he have to think about her right now? He refocused on Ramsey: his release, his accuracy, his timing. All of that stuff that separated the great quarterbacks from the good ones. Most of all, it was concentration.

  Bruiser jogged up to him and nudged him. “Don’t look now, but you have a fan.”

  “Who?” Brett followed Bruiser’s gaze to the seats behind the Steelheads’ bench.

  “Fifty yard line, a few rows up.” Bruiser pointed, as if Brett couldn’t see them, but he could. Oh, hell yeah, he could.

  They sat in a row together, those strong women who’d tamed some equally strong men, each one wearing their guy’s jersey. Rachel, Lavender, Kelsie, Mac, and—

  Estie.

  Estie? Sitting a couple seats down from Mac and flanked by her mother and sister. All three of them were wearing his Number Ten jersey.

  His jersey number.

  Worn by Estie and her family to show their support of him despite what’d happened between them.

  Dang.

  Emotion choked him, limiting his ability to breathe. He blinked back tears. No way in hell could his guys see tears. N
ot a chance. Not a fucking chance.

  “You okay?” Bruiser studied him with concern.

  “I’m fine. Really fine.” Brett lobbed the ball to Bruiser, signaled to Derek to hold on a minute, and jogged to the sidelines. He looked up into the stands, waved at the row of Steelheads’ wives and girlfriends, saving the best for last. He met Estie’s gaze and read everything in her deep-blue eyes and her uncertain smile. He smiled back, his heart bursting with joy.

  She was here for him. Just him.

  “Gunnels, get your ass over here, now!” HughJack bellowed with impeccable timing as always.

  Estie gave Brett the thumbs-up.

  Joy gave his feet wings, and he sprinted several yards to the coach, all business and ready to conquer his dreams. All those people who said he couldn’t do it would be proven wrong. Yet they weren’t what drove him. He’d defeated those demons, seen more than most, and recovered.

  This was his time, his moment, and he was sharing it with the woman he loved and the teammates he’d bonded with, all on a national stage. The only thing that would make this moment one-hundred-percent perfect would be for his family to be here to support him. But they weren’t, and he’d take what he had because it was a helluva lot more than he had a few months ago.

  Brett bent his head to listen to his coach go over the game plan. Harris fidgeted in the background like a nervous parent.

  When HughJack finished with him, Harris snatched him by the arm. “The Pats are going to go after you. They’ll come with a blitz like you’ve never seen before. McGill makes Miller look like a pansy. That guy is nasty. And don’t let Bowers fool you. He might look like a hulking, slow lineman, but the guy is quick like a cat. He can leap and bat your passes down if you don’t get enough height on them.”

  Brett nodded. Harris had been beating this into his head all week. He held his silence. He listened then left Harris on the sidelines to go through pregame warm-up with his team. As one the team jogged back to the locker room, listened to another lecture by the coach and a heartfelt speech from Zach. Then all eyes turned to him. Brett had never been good with words, so he kept it short and simple.

  “I have faith in every one of you in this room. We’ve risen from adversity, and together we can do this.”

  Guys nodded and mumbled their agreement. Brett put his hand out, and the rest of the guys gathered around him in a circle.

  “For the team.”

  “For the team,” they shouted back.

  Minutes later Brett stood on the field, fighting off pregame jitters. Next to him Murphy looked ready to throw up. Brett elbowed him. “You’re not gonna barf all over my shoes, are you, Murph?”

  Zach’s eyes narrowed, and he glared at Brett. “Fuck no. I’ve waited my entire life for this. I’m not going to make an ass out of myself in the biggest game of my life.”

  Brett nodded, happy to see a little color returned to Zach’s face.

  New England won the toss and elected to kick off. The ball sailed through the air on the kickoff.

  Bruiser ran it back to the fifty, and Brett strapped on his helmet and went to work. No one, not even the best defense in the NFL, was going to ruin it for him. This day was his, and this game was his.

  Game on.

  The clock ticked down. One play left for New England. The Steelheads were ahead by four. Their quarterback threw a Hail Mary into the end zone and a sea of bodies leapt for the ball. Brett ran down the sidelines toward the pile of writhing, struggling bodies. The refs pulled body after body off the pile until Zach rose to his feet, the football held high over his head.

  They won.

  The Steelheads won.

  The crowd closed around Brett in a crazed celebration of noise and confetti, but he had only one thought.

  He pushed people out of his way in his desperation to get to Estie. Only he couldn’t find her. She’d disappeared. It was as if he’d imagined her sitting in the stands wearing his jersey. He caught sight of her mother and sister standing with Lavender and Tyler. Pushing a couple reporters out of the way, Brett literally sprinted to them.

  “Where’s Estie?”

  The Harrises looked at each other. Like the tight-knit family that they were, none of them said a word, as if they were protecting her, but from whom? Surely, not him.

  Desperate panic welled inside Brett. Had an angry fan injured her? Had she gotten suddenly ill? Did she have a change of heart and run away?

  “Where is she? Did something happen to her?” His voice cracked from fear. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants and looked at each one of them. None of them would meet his gaze.

  Finally, Tyler set his jaw and stepped forward. Tyler grabbed Brett’s arm. “Come on, man, Everything is fine. Trust me. Let’s enjoy the celebration. This is your moment.”

  Brett swallowed and glanced at her mother and sister. They flashed brilliant smiles at him, despite something hidden in the depths of those smiles. Before Brett could ask any more questions, he was sucked into the vortex that was the post-Super Bowl hoopla.

  HughJack stood on the podium as did Veronica and her father, the team owner. No way in hell was Brett going up there without Tyler. Putting a vise grip on an unusually reluctant Harris, he mounted the crowded podium along with Zach, their defensive captain.

  The commissioner made his presentation of the trophy, and Mr. Simms held it up for all to see to the cheers of the fans and the teammates crowded around. Brett, still wondering about Estie, forced his thoughts of her to the back of his mind. He needed to live in this moment. This was his time. He earned it, and he was damn well going to enjoy it.

  Zach spoke next, wiping tears from his eyes. He held Kelsie close to him, and she clutched his arm, gazing up at him with utter devotion. Brett shoved away a twinge of jealousy.

  Zach hoisted the trophy over his head. “Almost two years ago I signed with the Steelheads, my last chance at a ring after thirteen years in the league. I’d earned every accolade known to a professional football player, except for that ring. Well, now I have it. I want to thank the love of my life for being by my side, Tyler Harris for never letting me lose faith and kicking me in the butt when I needed it, and Brett Gunnels for stepping in and finishing what Tyler started. And to all my teammates, offense and defense. We’re a team, and when we walked onto that field, we left our egos behind us.” Zach choked up and shoved the trophy in Tyler’s arms.

  Harris hefted it just as he’d done twice before. “I’m going to make this short and sweet. This was a team effort, and I’m proud to have played a part in it, but the guy we really need to thank is a quarterback who battled the odds and the doubters. He stands before us today as a world champion.”

  The crowd cheered and Brett grasped the trophy in his hands, relishing the feel of the cold, smooth metal, one of the best feelings in his life. He refused the mic, not trusting himself to talk, especially with half the world watching, but Harris didn’t give a shit. He grabbed the trophy and forced the mic into Brett’s face.

  Brett looked out at the jubilant faces of his teammates and coaches, their friends and family. In his happiest moment, a profound feeling of being alone slammed into him. He rejected the negative and spoke from his heart.

  “When Ty went down, I know a lot of people didn’t have faith in me. Hell, I didn’t have faith in myself. There were two people who thought I could do this. Tyler, because in his world, failure is not an option. He stood by me, worked my butt off, and made sure sleeping came second as we watched game film night after night. Thank you, Tyler. And thank you to a special someone who said the only thing standing between me and a ring is my lack of confidence. We worked on the confidence, and Tyler worked on my game. My teammates never wavered in their support. I’m still amazed I’m standing here tonight. Thank you to my coaches, my teammates, and my friends for never giving up on me. We did it, guys, and we did it as a team. Go Steelheads!” Holding the trophy in both hands, he pumped it in the air.

  The crowd roared and Brett passed
the trophy off.

  He stepped off the podium into the mass of people. Smoke from the fireworks cast a haze over the field and the smell hung in the cool air. A sliver of panic ran through him. He stared at the sea of faces, flashed back to a moment of pure chaos in a sandlot far away, the red of blood, the screams of comrades, the scent of smoke.

  Reporters and microphones whirled in front of his face with dizzying speed. Sweat ran down his face into his eyes, half blinding him. From nowhere, Harris and Zach emerged, flanking both sides of him. Brett gripped their arms with a strength that would’ve brought lesser men to their knees.

  “You’re all right. You’re with buddies, Gun.” Harris spoke in his ear for only him to hear. He slung his arm across Brett’s shoulders while Zach ran interference and answered questions.

  Brett nodded, gaining confidence from his friends’ calm presence. Slowly, his wild ride stopped spinning and let him off.

  He tried his voice, and it worked, even if it sounded a little choked up, but everyone expected that after having won the Super Bowl.

  He could do this, just like he’d won the Super Bowl. Brett tolerated interview after interview, answering the same questions over and over, all the while looking for Estie.

  Brett did not want to spend the best day of his life without the best thing that ever happened to him. Yet she’d left him. Just like that. When he needed her by his side the most.

  Her absence told him more than words ever could.

  Estie didn’t go down on the field after the game. Part of her had wanted to share this moment at his side, and part of her insisted she needed to keep her distance, stick with the plan to let him make his decisions before she went to him.

  She’d stood in place among the celebration in the stands, and then she’d panicked. Not because she was committed to giving him the space he needed for his career, but because of something completely unrelated. Brett’s world could never be planned out, reduced to a spreadsheet, organized to the nth degree because Brett’s life was about winning and losing. Outcomes no one could control. Not her. Not Brett. No one.