by Lucy Gilmore
“Oh dear,” she murmured. “Is this a bad time? I can come back. There’s a coffee shop down the street—”
“Don’t be silly,” Regina said, her words terse enough to make Hailey wince. “Cole has clearly made his decision. I can tell when I’m in the way.”
“You’re not in the…” Hailey’s voice trailed off as she caught sight of Cole. He wanted to move his facial muscles into the shape of a smile, to reassure Hailey that he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and show his appreciation the best way he knew how, but although he might be able to manage the smile, there would be no suave embraces. His shoulder fucking hurt.
“I can be ready in five minutes,” he promised as he rose to his feet. Both Regina and Hailey made a move as if to help him, but he wasn’t an invalid. He could stand without toppling over. “Reggie was just going.”
She did go, but not very happily. “I can put them off for maybe a day, but you have to head in tomorrow. They need to update the injury report, and there are all kinds of interviews lined up—”
“I know, Reggie.”
“I’m just saying. The Puppy Cup will buy you a little time, but not much.” Regina glanced at Hailey and held back a sigh. “Make sure you use it wisely.”
Hailey tactfully busied herself with greeting Philip and thus avoided any kind of conflict with Cole’s sister. He was more grateful for that than he could say. For the past three days, his life had been a barrage of excessive emotion. His parents, his coaches, the press, even the doorman in his condo building—everyone was demanding to know what his plans were and how likely he was to fulfill all their hopes and dreams for the Kickoff Cup.
He was tired and he was sore. He just wanted to play with his puppy and his woman. Why was that so hard for everyone to understand?
“I told you this was a bad idea,” Hailey said as soon as Regina disappeared out the door and they were left to the peace and quiet of his condo. It was the first time Hailey had been here, but she showed no surprise at the surroundings. Or awe. She proved it by taking a quick glance around and wrinkling her nose. “This isn’t a very puppy-friendly place to live, is it? I should have asked before I gave you Philip. I hope Garrett’s house is less…pristine.”
Cole laughed for the first time in days. Of course Hailey would be just as unimpressed by the expensive and overdone furnishings in his home as she was about his career. She saw everything through the lens of her puppies. If it couldn’t feed them, house them, or play fetch with them long into the night, it was essentially valueless.
God, he loved that about her. He loved everything about her.
“My cleaning woman threatened to leave me about six times, but she brings in home-baked doggy treats for Philip, so I suspect she’s mostly talk.” Unable to resist the urge any longer, Cole strode across the living room and planted himself in front of Hailey, pulling her into a one-armed hug.
She smelled, as she always did, like lavender and puppy formula. Since he couldn’t greet her in the suave, debonair way he wanted, he buried his face in the top of her hair and inhaled instead.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice muffled by where it was pressed in his chest.
“Smelling you. Do you know it’s the one thing that’s been keeping me sane?”
“The way my hair smells?”
“The way your hair smells. The way your hair feels. The way your hair tickles my lips and my nose and makes me want to kiss every part of you.”
“Well, then.” She put her arms around his waist and hugged him back. “I’m glad I buy the expensive shampoo.”
He laughed again, their bodies shaking as one. Even so slight a movement as laughter caused his shoulder to twinge, and although he quickly subdued his reaction, she noticed.
“Oh God. I’m sorry.” She stepped back, taking her delicious scent and the warmth of her body with her. “How is it?”
He’d only had an opportunity to chat with her briefly on the phone since the accident, but he had no doubts that Hailey knew down to his blood pressure and oxygen levels how he was doing. Not only did she have a direct pipeline to his parents, but she would have made it a point to read the stats and articles, to listen to the news reports and assess his condition from a distance.
Which was why he lied. He didn’t want to talk about stats and articles. He didn’t want to discuss his condition. He wanted to kiss her and film a bunch of puppies not playing football. In that order.
“Not bad, actually. A little sore, but that’s only to be expected. Dr. Hampton thinks I’ll be as good as new in no time.”
She didn’t draw close enough for him to kiss, and Philip, finishing his sandwich, demanded immediate attention. She gave it to him, which only served to put yet another barrier between them. Lifting the puppy and curling him to her chest, she planted a kiss on his head and examined Cole as though he was wearing his skin inside out.
“How is it really?”
He shrugged, using his right shoulder to prove that things weren’t as dire as they looked. The truth of the matter was, they weren’t as dire as they looked. It had only been a partial dislocation, and—miracle of all miracles—his labrum hadn’t torn. The scar tissue and the surgery had done their job, holding him together even when he’d been hit from the side at full speed by a three-hundred-pound man intent on bringing him down.
From a medical standpoint, he’d be fine in about six weeks. In any other man, the injury would be a minor nuisance, an irritation in an otherwise full life. In this man, it meant he was probably never going to play pro ball again.
“I’m giving it a few days to rest and heal, and then we’ll see,” he said. “It’s too early to tell. My dad and Dr. Hampton are sure I’ll be fine for the Kickoff Cup.”
He was no longer able or willing to accept the puppy barrier that Hailey had placed between them. Philip or no Philip, he was going in for his kiss. Since his arms were only half-functional and Hailey’s were holding a dog, he had to go in face-first. It wasn’t a play he was used to running, which was what he blamed for the quick way Hailey turned her head at the last second.
His kiss went awry, hitting the side of her mouth, but it was enough. He wanted to taste her. He wanted to feel her. He wanted to forget, for one goddamned minute, that—
“I know about your shoulder, Cole,” she said, turning her head again. This time, his kiss landed somewhere near her ear. Never in his life had he felt—or acted—so awkward.
He was Cole Bennett, dammit. His kisses went exactly where he wanted them to. He swept women off their feet and made them whimper with desire. He’d held this woman in his arms and devoured her moans as she came time and time again beneath him.
“Would you stop wriggling?” he asked. “I’m trying to kiss you.”
“I know you are,” she replied without smiling. “But I think we should talk.”
His heart gave an erratic, heavy thump, but he strove to keep things light—to pretend that this was an ordinary day in the ordinary course of an ordinary relationship.
“Oh yeah?” he said. “About what?”
“I know about your shoulder, Cole,” she repeated. Even though this was one of the topics she normally thrived on—football—there was no sign of a metallic spark in her eyes, no playful challenge in the way she looked at him. She set Philip down and didn’t speak again until she’d regained her stance. “How you’ve struggled since your surgery, how hard you’ve worked to hide that it’s weakening. How this was your last chance at a Kickoff Cup, and now your career is most likely over for good.”
Cole had very recently been thrown to the turf and piled on by more men than anyone should feel on top of him at one time, but that was nothing compared to the impact of Hailey’s words.
She knows. She sees.
Thank holy fuck. I don’t have to pretend anymore.
“It’s bad, is
n’t it?” she persisted with a nod at his sling. “Worse than the news is saying?”
He nodded, not yet trusting himself to speak.
“They have you down as questionable on the injury report, but there’s nothing questionable about it.” This time, she wasn’t asking. “It’s over. For good.”
“There’s always a chance things could miraculously turn around, but yeah.” It was the first time he’d said the words aloud, and it felt amazing. He was free. “There’s no way I can finish the season like this.”
“And next year?” she persisted.
Since he’d already come this far, he decided to take it all the way. “I’m done, Hailey. I’ve been done for quite some time. I just wasn’t ready to admit it out loud.”
She smiled with her eyes before her lips—a thing Cole didn’t know was possible but that instantly lightened the load on his heart. For the first time in thirty-two years, he didn’t feel as though losing football would be the end of something. With Hailey in his life and by his side, it could be the start of something instead.
It could be real life. Finally.
“I’m sorry,” she said, the words simple and all the more meaningful because of it. She was sorry, he knew, but she would also be the first to tell him that there were far worse fates in life—most of which were currently being lived out by the thousands of puppies waiting for their forever homes.
But then she ruined it.
“How are your parents taking the news? I haven’t talked to them since Monday. Your father must be devastated.”
He shook his head, as much to warn her off the subject as to relate the information that his father’s feelings on the subject were the exact opposite of devastation. His dad was resolute and determined and cheerful. He was sure that nothing—no act of God and no man-made disaster—would stand between him and the thing he desired most.
In his mind, his precious quarterback son would soon rise again to bring honor to the family name, and that was all that mattered.
“I’d be happy to go over sometime this week and hang out if you think it would help distract them,” Hailey offered. “Someone from the production office has been picking up and dropping off Nala, but I could easily do it instead.”
“No. Don’t do that.”
His words came out harsher than he intended, causing the color to immediately blanch from Hailey’s face. It was the opposite of her delightful blushes but just as telling.
“I’m sorry,” he was quick to add. “It’s nice of you to offer, but I haven’t talked to them about it yet.”
Philip came trotting up with his well-worn plush football in his mouth. Dropping it at Cole’s feet, he waited patiently for the game of fetch that was sure to follow.
“Not now, buddy,” he said. To Hailey, he added, “I’m waiting for the perfect time.”
“The perfect time?” she echoed, her brows knit. “As in…tomorrow?”
“Sure. Maybe. If it feels right.”
“If it feels right? Are you serious?”
Now she drew close enough for him to kiss, but it was obvious from her expression that she was in no mood for romance. “They should hear it from you instead of a press release,” she said. “And the sooner, the better. You’re only building up false hopes by pretending you can recover from this. It took me several days to get over the shock, and I’m not personally invested in your career. I can’t imagine what it’s going to do to them.”
Cole could. He could picture the exact look on his dad’s face—disappointment and dismay, the crushing loss of everything he’d worked toward. His mom would try to hide it, but that would be worse. She’d smile and make everyone dinner and tactfully refrain from mentioning football for the rest of her life.
And Regina, well. Regina would start making plans. Marketing plans and financial plans. Lists of sponsors who might be interested in an overpriced former football star. Ways he could eke out his fame so that the light stayed bright and focused overhead, so that the name Cole Bennett meant something.
Until she realized that his name was useless and she stopped.
Even though he knew this day had been coming—had wished for it, even—he wasn’t sure he had it in him to crush his entire family’s dreams.
What kind of man did? What kind of son?
“You have to tell them, Cole,” Hailey said when he hesitated too long over his response. She tilted her face up to his, her eyes narrowed as she took in each exhausted line, every strained nerve. “I know it’s going to be awful, but they’re your parents.”
That truth—so simply uttered and so much more direct than any of the other criticisms Hailey had leveled at him—hit Cole much harder than he’d expected.
“Awful” didn’t even begin to cover it. Didn’t she realize? She could critique his game play and laugh at his faults for an eternity without hurting him, but this was the one thing that had the power to truly break him.
“Exactly,” he said, feeling the cold sensation of dread and a deep, abiding fear clamp on his heart. “They’re my parents. Not yours.”
She blinked, clearly taken aback by his response. So was Philip, who renewed his bid for attention. He pawed at Cole’s leg and nudged the football closer.
“Not now, Philip.”
“Don’t take your bad mood out on your puppy.” Hailey picked up Philip’s football and tossed it across the white marbled floor. Her aim sucked and her technique was deplorable, but that didn’t stop the puppy from bounding happily after it. She took one look at Cole’s expression and added, “And don’t take it out on me either. I get it… It sucks to get pulled from the roster this close to the Kickoff Cup. It’s not how you’d have chosen to end your career. You wanted to go out in a blaze of glory. But it’s not as if you didn’t know this was coming. It’s not as if you thought you could keep this up forever.”
Everything Hailey said was absolutely true. It did suck not to finish the season out, and he would have preferred to retire on his own terms. He wanted to play in a Kickoff Cup game and—yes—maybe even win it. And this career always had an expiration date—that was a thing every football player knew, or if they didn’t, they learned it as soon as that first concussion hit.
But if she thought for one second that it was the glory he was pining for, if his hesitation came from not getting to ride on the shoulders of the adoring crowds any longer, then she didn’t know him at all.
“This has nothing to do with the Kickoff Cup,” he said.
Her look of disbelief spoke volumes.
“Okay, maybe a little of it does,” he admitted. Even in his present state, his stomach in knots and his heart heavy, he could recognize just how far he’d gone in the name of the sport. The puppies, the press, the fact that Hailey was in his life at all… Why had he done any of it if not for his team? “But that’s not the real reason I don’t want to talk to my parents. You’ve seen them, Hailey. You’ve spent time with them. Don’t you know by now that this news is going to kill them?”
“Your dad will be fine.” She reached out and touched his arm. It was just a light press of her fingers, but he felt as though he was being held down by a rock. “I know you worry about him, but he has your mom and sister to help look after him, and the doctors—”
“You don’t understand,” Cole protested. “Everything he has, everything he is, is wrapped up in my football career. He and my mom both, not to mention Regina and Mia. This doesn’t just mean the end for me. It’s the end for all of us.”
She offered him a wry smile and took her hand back. She placed it on Philip’s head instead, running her finger up and down the velvety length of his nose. “I think you’ll survive. No offense, but if the five of you have blown through your entire salary already, you need to rethink your long-term financial plans.”
“Money?” The word came out in a rush of breath and bitter laughter. “Y
ou think this is about money?”
“Isn’t it?”
It wasn’t. Not even remotely. He’d give up every penny he had if it meant he could avoid the heartache—the absolute upending of everything he knew to be true—that this news would cause his family.
“My dad has been molding me into a football player since the moment I was born,” he said. He barely recognized the sound of his own voice, but he pushed on anyway. He needed to say this. He needed for someone else to know. “Everything I ate and played and did was to make me a better quarterback. Nothing was too good for me, nothing too much—provided, of course, that it pushed me closer to the end zone. The cookies my mom baked had protein powder ground into them. They tasted like paste, but that was too bad. My development came first.
“I only got football gear for every single birthday and Christmas, no matter how much I wanted a remote-controlled car or a puppy. I didn’t have friends; I had teammates. Even my own sister wasn’t allowed to play with me—not in any way that counted. We didn’t fight over Monopoly or take turns playing Super Mario. She fetched the footballs I threw through a tire in the backyard, ran me through sprinting drills and timed my progress.”
“Poor Reggie,” Hailey murmured.
“Yes,” Cole agreed, jumping at this opportunity. “It was hard on her—harder, probably, than it was on me. She didn’t get a childhood of her own, was never given a chance to be anything other than my manager. My dad is a quarterback’s father. My mom is a quarterback’s mother. Regina is a quarterback’s sister. And me, well, I’m a quarterback. Period. Full stop.”
“That’s not true, Cole, and if you’d just—”
Cole didn’t let her finish. “It’s all any of us ever were. It’s all any of us will ever be. Don’t you get it? When I leave the Lumberjacks, I’m not just ending a job. I’m ending an entire way of life. I’m ending my family. Without football to bind us, I don’t know what we’re supposed to be. I don’t know what we’ll have.”
“I do,” Hailey said without hesitation. “You’ll have each other.”