FALSE START (Gods of the Gridiron Book 2)

by Shanna Swenson

Some of it was Brett’s guilt. Not only was he still feeling guilty for driving the damn McLaren, he’d gone and messed around with Hunter’s wife last night and now he was sure he was seeing him on this very field.

  It was if Hunt were standing in the end zone, out of the corner of Brett’s eye, flashes of that damn jersey—number 83. Hunt was mocking him, haunting him, harassing him for taking the life he’d left behind. Brett had just swooped in after all and taken his place, right?

  Brett’s stomach tightened as he called for the snap from his center, caught the ball hiked to him from the shotgun position, and pivoted his right leg out waiting for Quil to get downfield. His right arm came up, and that’s when Quil’s practice jersey morphed from an 87 to an 83. Brett panicked and moved back a step or two. The sun was playing tricks on him. It couldn’t be Hunt. When Quil turned, it was indeed a three not a seven, and Brett’s arm fell, defeated.

  The ball fell from his grasp onto the turf, and he just stared back down field.

  Hunter was waving his arms, ready for the catch that would never come again.

  Brett watched with bated breath. He had so much to say to his best friend. So many things to apologize for. So many wrongs to right. But it was too late, and slowly reality set in as Quillan Layton ran back to Brett and pulled his helmet off.

  “Brett?” he asked, frowning. “You alright, man?”

  “What happened?” Josh asked, looking down at the football on the turf.

  “What the fuck, McFadden?” Haskins growled, coming over to them.

  “I can’t do this right now.” Brett moved quickly away from the two of them, toward the tunnel.

  He was going to be sick.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Madi grinned as she looked out onto the field from her desk. It was good to see Brett back in his element, even if it were bittersweet. Hunt would be proud, Hunt would be excited, and Hunt would be glad that Madi was finally starting to move forward with her life. Brett had nodded when she’d asked if Hunter had known about Brett’s feelings for her. Madi wasn’t sure how or when he’d known; maybe he’d known all along. But it didn’t really matter because she was happy, and she knew deep down that Hunter would be happy for her too. It had been four months since his death, and she was finally starting to be able to talk about it and not have her insides rip when she said his name aloud to others.

  Last night had seemed like a dream, being tied to the bed, and having the man she’d secretly desired most her life kissing, licking, sucking, and touching every part of her was an erotic fantasy come true. There was a small part of her that felt guilty moving into another man’s bed so soon after her husband’s death, but it was Brett; it felt right and so damn good having him do those things to her. And, she reminded herself, they hadn’t had intercourse. Hell, close enough, her brain reminded her. She blushed as her father entered her office, so glad he couldn’t read her mind.

  “Hey Dad,” she said as she looked up from the computer screen where she was working on budget totals.

  “Hey, pumpkin, wanna do lunch?”

  “Oh, Brett was gonna…” she trailed off blushing again and her dad looked away with a smirk.

  “You and Brett are together a lot lately, I see.”

  Madi just nodded; she didn’t know what to say to that. It was true after all. They spent almost every waking moment together. “Is that a bad thing?” she wondered aloud then frowned when her dad shook his head shocked the words had actually come to her lips.

  “Not at all. I’m glad to see you really smile again.” He took her hand and his gray eyes burned into her own. Her father was a handsome man; his once blonde hair had turned white along with his mustache, but he was spry for a man of sixty. “Well, can we see you for dinner?”

  “We’re going to Brett’s folks tonight, but we’re free on Thursday,” Madi recovered and got another grin out of her old man.

  “Looks like I’m gonna have to take ol’ Zeus golfing and have the same talk with him I had to have with the wide receiver who once had my daughter blushing like she is now.” Her father’s brow went up, and she could’ve choked on the coffee she was still sipping.

  Her father assumed it to be that he’d mentioned Hunter, but she was choking because she was suddenly mentally thrown back into that bed where Zeus had been ravishing her body.

  “I’m sorry, honey, I didn’t mean to…” her father apologized.

  “No, no it’s ok, I forgot how to swallow all of a sudden.” Madi gave him a laugh and stood. “Wanna go see how our QB is doing today with Quil?”

  “I’d love that. I was about to head down myself. Wanna check the mirror first though?” he gave her a wink, and she ran to grab her compact in her drawer.

  “Dad, I thought I had something in my teeth, don’t do that.” She scolded him and got a laugh in return.

  She took his arm as they walked out the door and down the hallway, toward the elevators.

  “You and Brett were destined to be together, Madi. I’m glad to see it finally coming to fruition.” When he smiled over at her she returned it and they hopped onto the elevator. “I knew it a long time ago. Long before Drew told me that as a child Brett told him he’d found the girl who would one day be his wife.”

  “Brett told him that? When?” Madi asked in awe.

  “The day he met you, Drew said. And it made Drew laugh but Brett was dead serious. Which is why it always surprised me when he didn’t intervene between you and Hunter.”

  “Brett’s a gentleman, you know that father.” Although he wasn’t a gentleman in the bedroom last night, she thought. “Besides, he didn’t want to impose on my happiness for his own selfish gain.”

  “That’s true. He’s never been selfish where you were concerned. Which is why he has my blessing.”

  Madi grinned big as the elevator dinged, their destination reached, and leaned in to kiss her father’s cheek. “Thanks, Daddy. That means so much.”

  “Tell him I said, it’s about damn time.” He chuckled and they moved through the training room to see a grumbling Coach Haskins.

  “I can’t deal with this bullshit today.” Haskins threw his clipboard onto a bench. To say he overreacted on occasion was an understatement. The man lived football, ate it, breathed it, slept it, and most times needed a stress reliever in the worst way. Madi was surprised he hadn’t blown a coronary with how worked up he got. Not that the rest of them didn’t take football seriously, but Haskins had a cork up his ass 97% of the time.

  “Now Haskins, let’s just relax,” Jerry said.

  “Why don’t you tell that to your QB? He’s the one who needs to fuckin’ relax.” Haskins huffed off in the direction of his office and slammed the door behind him.

  Madi knew if Haskins was going into his office, Brett was no longer on the field.

  “Let me go see what’s going on. I’ll meet you on the field.” Madi leaned in to kiss her father’s cheek and moved to the locker rooms where she found Brett leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands covering his face. He wore a sweat-stained gray muscle shirt that hugged his big frame, black workout shorts that came past his knees and new cleats. “Brett,” she whispered and rested her hand on his shoulder.

  He breathed in deeply but didn’t move.

  “Are you ok?” she asked. It was rare to see Brett upset, even after a loss. Their QB, their captain, was as solid as a rock, never getting rattled. The first time she’d seen Brett cry was when Hunter died; he wasn’t one to show emotion or theatrics.

  He pulled his hands from his face and looked up at her, a mixture of fear and anguish in his eyes. “I saw him.”

  “Who, Brett?” Madi squatted, glad she’d worn a pant suit today instead of a dress.

  “Hunter,” he whispered and looked around, making sure they were alone.

  “What do you mean?” Madi asked, trying to understand.

  “I think he’s haunting me, Madi. I can’t throw a pass today to save my life. It was as if he was there, on the field with me
, instead of Quillan. I kept seeing his number.”

  “Brett, you’re stressed. That’s all.” After all, he’d been soothing her and not really grieving himself. They’d known this was going to be hard. Having Quillan, someone new, was just getting to him. “I know this is hard.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Madi frowned. “Of course I do.”

  “No, Madi, you don’t know. You weren’t the one in the car beside him watching him die, in the ambulance watching him die, in the hospital watching him die…all the while being in love with his wife. Now, he’s come back to haunt me for it.” Emerald green eyes pierced her heart.

  “Oh, Brett,” Madi sighed.

  “It’s fucking true. There was a part of me that was somewhat glad, how sick is that? I don’t deserve you.”

  “Stop this!” Madi commanded, taking his face in her hands. “You listen to me. You are the best man I’ve ever known. I don’t know where this is coming from, but Hunter wouldn’t take this away from you. This is your own mind feeling guilty, Brett. He loved you. I know he did.”

  “How could he? You know how angry he’d get with me.”

  “Your relationship was rocky at the end, I know that, but he—”

  “He was jealous of me.”

  “Yes, he was. Very much so. But he never hated you, even when you thought he did.” Her eyes pleaded with him to listen to her words and take them in. “You remember what you told me about him loving me? I doubted it at first too but I know now; I know in my heart that he loved us both as much as he possibly could.”

  Brett gave her a crooked grin even as she pulled him to her, kissing his lips softly. “I love you, Madi,” he said when she pulled back.

  “I love you, Cap. Now you get out there and show Quillan Layton that cannon of yours. You are Zeus, thrower of thunderbolts, and as your queen I demand to see your power in all its glory.”

  Brett’s eyes sparkled, he nodded, and they both stood. Brett took her hand and they made their way out to the practice field.

  The ride was silent on the way to Brett’s parents’ house that night. He was reeling from his poor performance. It hadn’t improved with Madison’s speech, or her presence, of which he’d been certain would help get his mind in the game. By the tenth toss, he’d called it and he could see Quil was disappointed too. It made the humiliation so much worse. Brett had never had an ED problem but assumed this would be what it felt like for a man who did. It fucking sucked.

  Madi was gracious enough not to follow him into the locker room and make excuses for him, apologize to him, or give him some BS encouragement that would only make him feel like more of a sorry excuse for a quarterback than he already did. That was yet another thing he loved about the woman who’d always been his best friend; she knew when he needed advice and when he needed her silence—tonight was that night.

  She’d simply taken his hand and they’d left the complex around five. His parents were expecting them for dinner, and despite his foul mood, he was eager to see them. It’d been weeks.

  When they came up to the door, Brett’s mom, Sophia, answered it. She gave her son a bright smile and opened her arms for a hug. It didn’t matter how old he got, he would always feel home in this woman’s loving arms.

  “Hey, Momma,” he stated as he pulled her against his chest, cradling her head.

  She squeezed him tightly. “Oh, there’s my boy. It’s good to see you.”

  “You too.” He pulled back to look at her lovely face with its distant Italian roots, her hazel eyes and deep brown hair pulled up in its usual bun.

  “Madison, child, you get more beautiful every time I see you. How are you, my sweet girl?” His mom moved to Madi and grabbed her, kissing her forehead and embracing her tightly.

  “I’m good. Really good. Thanks to your son.”

  She patted Brett’s bicep as Sophia released her. Sophia’s eyebrow rose, and she gave Brett a knowing look. “Something you two wanna share?”

  Brett couldn’t help the blush that came to his cheeks. “Well, uh… we…”

  “We’re taking things slow but,” Madi looked up into his eyes and he literally swooned, “we’re...well, we’re together now.”

  Sophia laughed and jumped up and down. “Oh, thank God. It’s about freaking time.”

  “Mom,” Brett scolded but laughed as she patted his cheek, tears coming to her hazel eyes.

  “You two were meant for one another, if I can be so bold.” His mom pulled them all together in a group hug. “We mothers know what makes our children’s hearts complete. Madi always completed you, Brett. And it looks like you’ve finally let her in on that secret.”

  When his mom pulled away, she was wiping tears from her eyes.

  “I’m sorry I’m emotional about it, it’s just… I’m so glad something good can come from this tragedy. We start to see what really matters in life when we lose those closest to us.” Sophia had lost her sister when they were just teenagers. Bianca had been in a car accident right before she graduated high school; his mom had always revered her big sister. She’d see Bianca in every butterfly that flew by, thus why her kitchen was literally overflowing with them—well not real ones, figurines, wallpaper and depictions. Bianca had always been obsessed with butterflies, so Sophia surrounded her life with them, even released them at her and Drew’s wedding in commemoration of her sister.

  Madi leaned in, kissed his mother’s cheek, and the two women hugged again. Brett’s heart swelled to bursting. He’d always loved how close Madi and his mother were.

  “How’s my two favorite kiddos?” Brett’s father, Drew asked as he walked up at that time.

  Brett smirked, even as he pulled his old man in for a hug. “I’ll be sure and tell Brock and Bridger that, Dad.”

  “Nah, it’s our little secret,” his dad joshed. Brett knew his father didn’t actually have a “favorite” despite that Brett was the only one who’d followed in his dad’s footsteps as far as football was concerned. Brock was an engineer and Bridger was in finance.

  Brett was the oldest of three boys and man, they’d been all boy. All out, all the time. Wild, reckless… broken limbs, cuts, skinned knees constantly. Brett wasn’t sure how his soft-spoken petite mother had done it; she’d always been patient and never raised her voice to any of them. God bless her little heart, literally.

  “Drew,” Madi said and pulled Brett’s dad in for a hug.

  “Madi, honey, you look great. My son have anything to do with that smile?” Drew winked, and Brett was certain he’d overheard their conversation in the foyer.

  Madi just grinned back and they all moved into the living room. Before she could even sit down on the couch next to him, Brett’s mom was playing hostess, of which Madi politely joined her in the kitchen to assist.

  Drew took his usual recliner and muted the television; it was set to ESPN, like always.

  Brett was grateful for the moment alone with his dad when he said, “So, you being with Madi the reason you’re feeling so guilty?”

  How could he possibly know that…unless…?

  “Jerry tell you about my shitty-ass practice?” Brett blushed.

  “Nope. You’ve always worn your heart on your sleeve, son. I can see something’s bothering you bad. The chip on your shoulder is mighty heavy.”

  Brett’s father had always had a sixth sense about people. It was one of the reason’s Jerry Taylor loved having him for a GM; he could smell a rat from a mile away, Jerry’d said. Drew McFadden had been as serious a man as Brett back in his heyday. He was tall and broad like Brett too, although he’d gotten a bit softer—and more easy-going—in his fifth decade on earth. Drew’s eyes were dark green, his brows thick, hair thinner and lighter than Brett’s and his tolerance for games an all-time low.

  When they’d gotten in trouble as children, Brett and his brothers had known better than to beat around the bush. They could’ve gotten away with murder around their prim mom, but their dad was a hard-ass and didn’t abide disrespec
t, disloyalty, or disobedience; his strong Scottish roots ran deep.

  “I couldn’t make a single pass to Quillan today, Dad. I felt like a rookie all over again. It was damn embarrassing. Talk about making an ass out of oneself.”

  “We all have off-days, lad.”

  “Not like this. I can’t get my mind right. I felt…” Brett shook his head, unable to convey his thoughts.

  “You were in the car with him when he was injured and with him when he passed away. That affected you. Probably even more than you know. Now, barely months later you’re moving in on his wife. You’re feeling guilty.”

  Brett wasn’t “moving-in” on Hunt’s wife. It had been Madi who’d come to him, but he wouldn’t get into the rigors of it with his dad. Still, that fact did bother him when he looked at the big picture. He knew he hadn’t intended to do what he’d done with her that night she’d propositioned him, but it was bound to happen. Their connection, their draw to one another was simply too strong to resist. It was why Brett was attempting to take it slowly, but he also knew his old man wasn’t being accusatory, just being a sounding board.

  “It was as if Hunt were there on the field. As if I could see him, his jersey, feel his presence. It was…”

  “Have you visited his grave since the funeral?”

  No, come to think of it, he hadn’t. Wow! Some best friend he was.

  “I know your relationship with Hunter was shaky at times and perhaps that’s bothering you, too.” It was true, although other than Madi he’d not really discussed their issues with anyone else. Again, Brett wasn’t surprised his dad had picked up on it. “Son, perhaps you need to go and have a little chat with him. Ease your mind, your conscience, your hesitations. Just go talk to him about how you feel. You’ve been so focused on Madi’s grief that I bet you haven’t really had time to do much of your own, have you?”

  Brett looked at his father as if he’d just revealed the holy grail. He was spot-on; Brett had not taken the time to assess his feelings, aside from letting the guilt consume him. Yeah, he’d cried, he’d prayed, he’d let the emotions run their course, but he was still stuck in the middle of his own grieving process. No wonder Madi was ahead of him. She’d faced the toughest part of the road and forced herself to battle it out when she’d taken some time alone. Brett hadn’t done that. He’d run from it; he’d not faced it head on. He’d cowered in a corner, and when the time came to move forward, he’d shoved the truth down; allowing a “ghost” of his former friend to upset him.