As she watched him celebrate on the field, she feared he didn’t need her, not like she needed him. She’d always been independent and in charge of her life. With him she was vulnerable.
She couldn’t deal with that.
At least, not at this point in her life. Too much had happened. She craved order. He embraced chaos and tried to tame it.
It’d been a mistake coming here.
With despair clutching her heart, Estie shuffled out of the stadium, jostled by partying fans and oblivious to the mayhem around her, desperate to get back to a world she could bend to her will.
Chapter Nineteen
Tipped Ball
Brett stood in the empty living room and glanced around. Everything was moved out except for Bongo and his cage. The poor bird missed Estie so much that he’d gone into a deep depression so Brett took him everywhere he could, including the final packing day in his apartment.
The door opened, and Brett’s heart rate spiked. For a split second, he expected Estie, who’d been conspicuously avoiding him since the game. Only his guest wasn’t Estie, and he couldn’t be more shocked. “Dad.”
“Brett.” Jerry Gunnels stood in the doorway wearing a tentative smile.
“Fuck you!” Bongo screeched from his cage, ringing his little bell with his foot.
Brett’s father’s eyes grew big.
“That’s my parrot. He’s got a bit of a problem with his mouth.”
“I see.”
Brett doubted his father did.
“Aren’t you going to invite your old man in?”
“Uh, yeah, sure.”
Brett stood back and followed his father into his humble apartment.
“I expected something grander for a pro football player.” Jerry turned around, taking in the place, mostly empty but for a few boxes. “Looks like you’re moving out.”
Brett nodded. “You’re lucky you caught me here. I just came by to get the last of my things and take them to storage.”
“You have any coffee?”
“I have a thermos with some Tully’s but only one mug.” Brett washed out his mug while his father stood at the counter. The man was making him nervous the way he was staring at him.
“I watched your game, you know.”
Brett jumped, surprised the man had talked after being quiet so long. He said nothing, not knowing what to say. Instead, he braced himself for the inevitable criticism and berating so commonplace from his father.
“You surprised me. Really surprised me.”
Brett still said nothing.
His father swallowed and stared at his hands. They were shaking. “Brett, I was wrong about you. So wrong.”
“Yeah, sure.” He hated the sarcasm in his voice, but his father deserved it.
“You’re a damn good football player.”
Brett waited for the but yet there wasn’t one. “You came here to tell me that?”
“No, I came here to tell you that you’re an even better man, a far better man than I’ll ever be. Maybe I don’t have the right to say this, but I’ll say it anyway, I’m damn proud of you.”
“Is that all you wanted?” Brett couldn’t let go of the years of frustration, of feeling like a failure because of this man. The anger and hurt blocked his ability to let him off easy, even if he wanted to do just that. He’d waited years to hear those words from his father. Now he wasn’t sure they mattered.
“Maybe I don’t deserve it, but I’d also like your forgiveness.”
Brett clenched his jaw, not sure he could give it. “Why? Because I’m on the verge of being a millionaire with a fat contract, and you’re my only relatives? Are you hoping to cash in on that?” They were cruel words, and he lashed out, hurting his father like the old man had hurt him.
“No, Brett, I don’t want a penny of your money.” At the despair in his father’s voice, Brett glanced up and was shocked at what he saw. His strong, uncompromising father looked broken, beaten, and very, very old. His shoulders slumped and he wrapped his hands around the coffee cup as if it were his lifeline.
“What the fuck do you want?” Brett’s resolve slipped an inch or two.
“You. You to be part of our family. I know I’m not an easy guy to get along with. I know I’ve been hard on you, but I’ve always loved you.”
In all the years, his father had never said those words, not to any of his kids, not even to his wife. The anger inside of Brett splintered like a windshield after a rock hits it, and he held on to the remnants even though they punched holes in his bitter outer layer.
With a heavy sigh, his father stood and walked to the door. “I was wrong to come here, wrong to expect I could wipe out years of hurt in a short hour. Wrong. I’m sorry, son. I’m sorry.”
Jerry Gunnels walked out the door. Brett stood in the doorway, his feet rooted to the floor until the extent of the loneliness engulfed and overwhelmed him. He ran to the car just as his father reached for the door.
His father turned, and they both froze. The next thing Brett knew, they were hugging each other.
Brett didn’t feel quite so alone anymore.
Chapter Twenty
Game Plan
Estie stood on the deck and waited. Brett hesitated at the bottom of the stairs. He looked up at her, squared his shoulders, and smiled a sad, heart-wrenching smile. Estie felt sick to her stomach as he walked up the deck stairs. She swallowed and blinked hard at the tears welling in her eyes. Brett stopped a few feet from her.
“Here are the keys.” He held the ring of keys out to her, dangling on his index finger. She stared at them but didn’t take them, as if not taking them could prolong the inevitable.
Estie wrung her hands together. “So you’re all moved out?”
“Completely.” He tried another lopsided smile, but it crashed and burned, turning into a grim frown.
“Then I guess that’s it.” She met his pale-blue gaze for the last time and saw it all in his eyes, all the regrets and hurt, but also the good times, the laughter, the passion. Everything.
“Yeah, that’s it.” He jingled the keys to catch her attention, and she snatched them from his hand, shoving them in her jeans pocket.
“No regrets?” She had regrets. Plenty. But none of them had a damn thing to do with the time she’d spent with this man. She’d never forget him.
“None. Not a one.” He gazed into her eyes, as if expecting something, but she didn’t know what.
“Me neither.” Except that they were parting ways, which was a big fucking regret.
“Do you know which team you’re going to?” Estie steered the conversation to a safe topic before it got into all those unsafe personal topics.
“Not sure yet, but it’s hard to beat what Miami is offering.”
Estie nodded slowly. “I’ll miss you and the kids.”
“Yeah, me too.” He reached down and stroked Marilyn, who’d come out of the house to flirt with him. Even Dozer got up from his bed and leaned against him, licking his hand. Spock sat in the doorway, watching it all with an unreadable expression, while Jim licked his butt.
Their eyes met and held, and the longing in his eyes destroyed Estie’s resolve to keep a distance. She moved toward him and into his arms as if it were the most natural thing in the world. They clung to each other way too long, and too many emotions battered at her convictions that she’d made the right choice for both of them.
Brett pushed her gently out of his arms. “I’m glad you’re following your dreams.”
“I’m glad you are too. Goodbye, Brett.” His name came out garbled as she choked on the words. A large, wet tear slipped down her cheek.
“Goodbye, Estie.” Brett stood there, hands shoved in pockets, as if there was so much more he wanted to say, but he didn’t say it. Instead, he walked away, and with him, he took an irreplaceable chunk of her heart.
She sank to the floor and started to cry as her kids gathered around in an attempt to comfort her, but this time, their comfort didn’t e
ase the pain splintering her heart and soul into pieces so shattered they’d never be repaired.
A woman didn’t lose a man like that and not regret it with every beat of her heart.
Brett sat back in the chair and stared out the window at the water on Elliot Bay. Usually, the view calmed him, but not so much today. In fact, not at all. It’d been three weeks since he’d left Estie’s house and Estie behind. He walked through life as if in a fog, and damn it, he needed to get out of that fog now. She’d moved on, and so would he. He’d survived worse.
His agent droned on and on in his ear, and Brett resisted the urge to lay the phone on the table and walk off.
“So, Brett, shall I tell Miami you’ll take their offer?”
Brett frowned. The acceptance sat on the tip of his tongue, but something held him back. “I was really impressed with San Francisco’s new coach. I think he’s building something good there.”
“Seriously, Brett? Miami has a team primed to win next year, and they’re willing to pay you to be their guy.”
“I’ve never been crazy about living on the East Coast.”
“You’ll do fine with all that sunshine.” His agent sounded exasperated, and Brett couldn’t blame him.
“Maybe, but San Francisco’s weather is just as good,” Brett insisted stubbornly. He didn’t know why he was resisting Miami’s offer. He’d been trying to figure that out for the past twenty-four hours. He’d finally come to the conclusion that it wasn’t because he still harbored hope that Estie might change her mind, though that was a consideration. He’d met with both team’s staffs, visited their facilities, talked to current players, and his gut told him to choose San Francisco. He’d felt an instant chemistry with the coaches and a few of the wide receivers he’d met, and a weird sense of coming home. Like he fit there, and their program fit him.
“Brett, this is the chance of a lifetime. Every free agent quarterback is salivating to get this job, and they want you.”
Brett didn’t want them. Miami’s coaching staff and owner didn’t give him a good feeling. Their head coach was an arrogant ass with a rigid idea of how the game needed to be played. Because of Brett’s lack of size, he preferred a more creative coach. San Francisco’s coach had been the Steelheads’ offensive coordinator a couple years ago. Brett loved his coaching style and believed in what the guy wanted to do with his team. Even better, Brett could see himself being there for a while. He liked the city, and he liked his teammates.
“I’ll have an answer for you tomorrow.”
“There shouldn’t be any question.”
“You’re right. There shouldn’t be, but there is.”
Brett ended the call and texted Bruiser to meet him at a nearby neighborhood bar.
“So, you sign yet?” Bruiser asked after they each ordered beers.
“No, not yet. Tell me if I’m a crazy-assed idiot.”
Bruiser’s slow smile said he knew. “You’re going with San Fran.”
“You know me too well.” Brett leaned back in the booth and laced his hands behind his head.
“Just make sure you aren’t being a dumb ass and doing this for her.”
“Estie? Hell no, I haven’t talked to her in three weeks. Last time I saw her was when I gave her my key to the apartment.”
“I’m sorry that didn’t work out, man. I swore you two were meant to be.”
“You’ve been hung up on that destiny crap ever since you got together with Mac and have your little family. I’m more pragmatic than that.” Brett tempered his words with a smile. He was genuinely happy for Bruiser even though he was also jealous as fucking hell.
“Yeah, I want for you what I have.”
“Don’t worry about me. I’ll get it. But for now, my future is all about football. My love life can come later.”
“And that future tells you to go to California.”
“Yeah, it does. Coach Jamison did a great sell job.”
“As long as you’re choosing them for all the right reasons.”
“You know I am. Money is not a factor. I’ll make plenty of cash no matter where I go, but I like the idea of building something from the ground up there.”
“You’ll definitely be doing that and more. They only won three games last season.”
“They’ve got a good core group of players and a great new coaching staff.”
“Hey, buddy, you don’t need to sell the team to me, you need to figure it out for yourself. Just keep Estie out of that equation. She’s out of your life.”
She was out of Brett’s life, but a day didn’t go by that he didn’t spend the better part of it thinking of her—her smile, her sparkling blue eyes, her tenderness toward animals, and her soft skin against his.
And this decision had to be made for the right reasons, and Estie was not a right reason.
Chapter Twenty-One
Earning the Ring
Brett signed on the dotted line a month later and moved into his new house in San Francisco accompanied by his furry kids. The turn-of-the-century home needed some work, but it was on two fenced acres. The large house was perched on a cliff above the water with a breathtaking view.
His family pulled together, drove down from Washington, and helped him move. While he enjoyed every crazy moment of it, he couldn’t wait until the last one of them pulled out of his driveway.
He sank into his new plush leather couch and glanced around the bright, sunny room bathed in peace and quiet. A smile tipped up the corners of his mouth. Estie would’ve loved this place. And just like that, his sadness floated in on a tide of loneliness.
Closing his eyes, he allowed his mind to take him back to his little apartment near Seattle and Estie, her naked body bathed in moonlight and her blue eyes bright with desire as she straddled him and took him inside her, moving her hips up and down until they were both smothered by a wild a frenzy neither could control. God, oh God, he fucking missed her.
He must have dozed off, because he woke with a start to someone pounding on his front door. He leapt to his feet before they broke the door down.
Adrenaline pumping and hands fisted, he ran to the door, ready to do bodily harm to the asshole on the other side. He wrenched the door open and the words stuck in his mouth in surprise. Tyler Harris stood in his doorway with a cocky grin on his face.
“I thought I got away from you when I left Seattle.” Brett faked a scowl. He was actually happy to see the guy.
“Yeah, whatever, Gun. Since when I am that easy to get rid of?” Tyler pushed past him and into the high-ceilinged living room with the wall of windows and French doors opening onto the wide back porch. He paused at Bongo’s cage to trade obscenities with the potty-mouthed parrot. Then the jerk helped himself to Brett’s small liquor cabinet, poured himself a whiskey, and strolled onto the porch, just like he owned the place. Brett preferred water and, after pouring a glass, followed him out to the back porch.
“Make yourself at home,” Brett said sarcastically.
Tyler angled his head and studied him, as if to say, fuck you. “Nice view.”
“I like it, but you didn’t come here to compliment me on my choice of houses.”
Harris snorted and took a long swig from his glass. “I never pegged you for the cowardly type.” He leaned his ass against the railing and studied Brett with those unnerving blue eyes.
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Harris had no right to call Brett a coward.
Harris looked him straight in the eyes, his expression hovering somewhere between annoyance and disappointment. “My sister.”
“I thought you’d be happy we split. You didn’t approve of us in the first place.” Brett walked to the railing and leaned over it, watching the waves crash against the cliffs below. The sound didn’t calm him; it churned his own internal waves of regret and frustration.
“Yeah, not at first, but I’ve had a change of heart.” Harris rubbed his chin, as if assessing his opponent and finding him lacking. Brett didn’t like
to be lacking in anything.
“She made her choice. She’s not interested in a relationship.”
“Bullshit. She loves you.”
“Yeah, right.”
“Why don’t you fight for her?”
“Why should I?” Brett’s stubborn pride wouldn’t allow that. He wouldn’t be shot down again by her. Fool him once—
“Because you love her, too, you asshole.” Harris glared at him as if he were the biggest dumb ass on the planet.
“It doesn’t matter how I feel. The lady doesn’t agree.” Brett dropped down into a lounge chair, ignoring Harris. As far as he was concerned, this conversation was over. Estie made her choice, and it wasn’t him. He’d been stupid to believe their mutual love of animals would be enough. Obviously, it wasn’t. And he was an idiot whose broken heart had fissures as deep as those in an Alaska glacier.
Tyler swirled his whiskey around in the glass, ice cubes clicking together. His gaze zeroed in on Brett, just like he zeroed in on an opposing defense. “Pride gets you nowhere, and loneliness sucks. A warm woman takes the chill out of those dreary winter nights.”
“She made her choice,” he repeated.
“Fight to get her back,” Tyler said as if it were that easy. “Tell her you can love her like no one else.”
“I don’t know. I—”
“You’re a smart guy. Figure it out.” Tyler turned and headed for the door.
“You’re leaving already?” Brett followed him.
“Yeah, Lavender is waiting for me. We’re spending the weekend in San Fran, getting some sun.”
A few hours later, Brett lay in his bed, Blackjack cuddled next to his head, while Risky stretched out against his back, snoring and oblivious to the turmoil inside. Humphrey, who’d be returned to his soldier daddy in a few weeks, slept beside the bed.
Hot Read: The Originals (Seattle Steelheads Book 5) Page 23