FALSE START (Gods of the Gridiron Book 2)

by Shanna Swenson

  “You’re right, Dad.”

  “Of course I’m right. I’m old and wise.” He winked over at Brett, getting a smile out of him. His father might be “old and wise,” but he was incredibly far from feeble. At just fifty-five, Drew was in great shape, barely graying, and had the stamina of a thirty-year old. He ran every day and could run circles around Brett’s brothers. Brett hoped he aged half as well as his “old man.”

  They had a delicious dinner of roasted veggies, steak, and salads and the conversation was easy. Brett felt better talking to his father and even his mother.

  As he and Madi left, he felt lighter than he had in weeks. He was planning to go talk to his best friend. Despite knowing that he could’ve talked to him anywhere, he knew it would help to visit Hunt’s gravesite and let go of some emotions he’d held in for far too long.

  He hoped doing so would change things.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Brett’s mood was atrocious a week later. He still hadn’t been able to sync with Quillan, nothing was working. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t get his mind right, couldn’t ease his heartache, couldn’t stop seeing Hunter…

  And he hadn’t been to the gravesite. He couldn’t force himself to go. There was something holding him back, some unseen force keeping him away.

  He and Madi had slept in the same bed together, but they hadn’t messed around. He hadn’t even kissed her and was starting to feel guilty about that. She seemed to understand he was off but that didn’t make him feel better. So, you’re feeling bad about messing around with your best friend’s wife but then guilty about not messing around with her. Make up your fucking mind, Brett!

  He was pumping iron hard the next afternoon, during the scheduled time when the defense was supposed to be working out and some of the guys looked at him like he was nuts. He didn’t care, he ignored them. To hell with them! Yes, he’d already worked out today, but the only other thing he could think of to get his frustrations out wasn’t an option. He wasn’t having sex with Madi, not yet. He couldn’t afford anything else to be remorseful about. And if it came to making himself feel bad or Madi, he would choose himself. She had enough on her plate still too and he wouldn’t burden her by “unburdening” himself. So, it was workouts and running. That’s what he did, since his arm didn’t want to cooperate.

  He was even off with Travis, and The Ram didn’t have the patience Quil seemed to. Brett was soon to get the horns, he knew, because Trav was frustrated too. He was anxious about proposing to Sky soon.

  Brett’s aggravation was at an all-time high when Pax came up and frowned at him.

  “Dude, take it easy, will ya? You’re gonna throw your shoulder out.” Paxton motioned to his right arm as Brett lifted yet another rep in an overhead press. It was heavy and yeah, he was struggling, but the anger blinded anything else. He set the weight down loudly and jumped up, brows drawing as he faced off with the big linebacker.

  “Mind your own business, merman,” Brett growled.

  “Easy, Brett. C’mon man, you’re not the only one missing him, you know?” Pax whined. To be so broad and strong, he was a damn teddy bear.

  Brett shoved him. Perhaps sparring would help lift some of the tension he felt. “What’d you say to me?”

  “C’mon, Zeus, stop.” Pax held his hands up, gentle giant he was.

  “Don’t fucking call me that!” Brett grumbled.

  “It’s who you are!” Pax argued.

  “Some great fuckin’ god I am. I can’t even throw a damn football right now. You haven’t seen it, you don’t know.” It was true. He’d only practiced with the offense. Defense had different camps this week.

  “Even Zeus wasn’t perfect.”

  Jesus, these guys took this Greek god thing far too serious. Brett rolled his eyes.

  “What?”

  “You! You just don’t get it.”

  “What don’t I get? He was our friend too, Brett. And I’m not going to stop calling us gods because we are. We proved that last year. You proved it. I did. Hunt—”

  “Don’t throw his name around,” Brett warned, finger out.

  “Why? Does it bother you?”

  “Watch yourself, Pax,” Brett cautioned again, knowing his anger was about to erupt.

  “He believed in us, too. Just because you’ve chosen to bury his legacy along with his body, some of us aren’t so quick to do so.”

  “How dare you fuckin’ say that to me!” Brett grabbed Pax’s shirt collar and gritted his teeth in the man’s face. “You have no idea how I feel, what I’ve gone through…”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” A deep voice and big hand on his shoulder brought Brett back from the ledge. He felt himself being pushed back as Quillan Layton came up in between him and Paxton. “Breathe, Cap, just breathe.” Quil looked into Brett’s face and pushed at his shoulders again, sitting him down on a nearby bench. He then turned to Paxton and whispered something.

  Brett felt his entire body shake as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He’d been ready to tear his LB’s face off. What the hell is wrong with me? Brett covered his face in his hands as he attempted to calm his rage. He needed a soak, a drink, a fuck, a swim… something!

  “You alright, ese?” Quillan asked as he sat down next to Brett and patted his shoulder again.

  “I dunno. I’m not so sure right now to be honest,” Brett answered, truthfully.

  “Death is hard. And just when you think you have a handle of it, it slaps you back down to the ground.”

  That’s right! Quil’s wife had died, under what circumstances Brett wasn’t sure. If anyone could understand, it was Quil.

  “I’m sorry, man.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for. You and Pax’ll be joking around about it before the week’s out.”

  It was probably true, but it didn’t make Brett feel any better about how he treated his friend.

  “He didn’t deserve that.”

  “Sometimes we focus our anger on people who don’t deserve it when we’re at our most vulnerable. Don’t worry, he’ll forgive you.”

  Brett wasn’t worried about Pax forgiving him. Pax was easy, cool, light-hearted. He’d realign his chakras or whatever, meditate, and be over it in no time, but Brett would have the stigma for a time. That was what he did best. Hold grudges.

  “You aren’t the only one in pain, Brett. Just keep that in mind.”

  Brett nodded. He knew that, he did; he just was so consumed with his own at the moment.

  “We’re gonna find our groove, man. Ok? We will. Zeus isn’t done here.” Quil smirked and elbowed him. “I just want you to know that I’m patient. I’m not gonna stop working at it. It’s gonna take time. But we will get it. I believe in our spirit. We got a lot of people counting on us, and we all have the talent.”

  Brett looked his new teammate over. Despite his dark brows and serious demeanor, there was a lightness to him, a man who shown with promise, a man who knew about second chances, a man who’d also stared death in the face and not let it swallow him up. It gave Brett pause, and he nodded again.

  “Thanks for the bout of confidence, Quil. I’m gonna go shower now and head home.”

  “Rest is as important as work, amigo. Make sure to take care of yourself.”

  “You too, ace.” Brett stood and began to walk away, only to hear Quil say, “Remember, we got a Super Bowl to prepare for.”

  When he turned back around, Quil winked and gave him a smile. Brett smirked back. If only he had that same conviction.

  Brett heard the doorbell ring and looked to Madi who blushed. He’d noticed she was making more food than usual—who had she invited to dinner?

  Quillan’s deep voice called from the doorway, and Brett internally sighed. Why had she brought him here? Madi gave him a hug, which irked Brett to no end, but then Madi squatted down and her voice softened. Brett frowned and moved toward the door, his curiosity getting the best of him.

  He stopped when he saw the cutest little girl he’d ever laid eyes
on. Beautiful, brown hair, eyes and skin just like her father’s. She was definitely Quillan’s child, there was no denying it. She couldn’t have been older than six, wearing a princess-type gown that looked more like a costume.

  “And who’s your favorite Disney princess, Quinn?” Madi asked her, tapping her lightly on the nose. The little girl giggled, and Brett couldn’t help but grin.

  “Pocahontas,” Quinn’s eyes got big and her smile brightened. “She’s Native American like Daddy is.”

  Quillan step forward then, pink hitting his cheeks as he took Brett’s hand. “Hope we aren’t imposing.”

  “Of course not. You’re my teammate. Mi casa su casa, brother.” Brett tried to lighten his mood. It’d been a while since anyone on his team had been to his house. He was overdue.

  “And a beautiful casa it is, amigo.” Quil looked around at the kitchen with its white cabinets, granite countertops, dark wood floors, shiplap walls, and high, beamed ceilings. Brett’s home had the whole farmhouse style down, and he’d gotten many compliments on its authentic feel; he’d said Joanna Gaines could have decorated it for how close it was to her vibes. He was proud of the work that had been done to this old house. He truly loved it here.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Brett offered and showed him into a little sitting area where they sat down in Queen Anne chairs that looked into the kitchen.

  “No, thank you. I’ll wait until dinner,” Quil answered then nodded to the little girl who held Madi’s finger and looked up at him. “Brett, meet my daughter, Quinn.”

  Brett smiled at the precocious little girl with the Jack-o’-lantern smile. “Hi there. I’m Brett.”

  “He’s also called Zeus.”

  “Zeus?” Quinn asked excitedly. “Like the king of the gods?”

  Brett’s brow rose in surprise. How’d this kid know about the Greek gods?

  “She’s a history buff, not unlike her nanny who likes to read all kinds of things to her that she probably shouldn’t.” Quil explained.

  “’S ok, Dad,” Quinn lisped. “Tia Nita just enjoys a good hero story.” She shrugged, getting a laugh of the adults. “Why do they call you Zeus?”

  Brett grinned again, but it was Madi who answered, “Brett here is our quarterback. He throws the football to receivers like your dad. One of his teammates coined him that because he’s really good at it, saying how he throws passes like Zeus threw thunderbolts.”

  That got a giggle out of the little angel and they all laughed again.

  “Want some juice, Quinn?” Madi asked and Quinn nodded her head. “I hope you like spaghetti and meatballs.”

  “Are you kidding? This kid’s grandma is half Italian, she loves meatballs,” Quil answered.

  “My Nonni makes sweet spaghetti sauce, it’s so good.”

  Brett smiled and looked up to Madi who looked apprehensive all of a sudden. “Uh oh, I hope my sauce can even compare. You’ll have to let me know, ok?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, Ms. Madi. Nonni calls me a food critic.” The six-year-old’s chin went up at that, getting yet another laugh out of the adults.

  “She obviously doesn’t get her sense of humor from me,” Quil shrugged. “How about you just eat Ms. Madi’s cooking and keep your opinions to yourself, kiddo?”

  “But Daddy…”

  “No, listen, reinita” Quil whispered loudly. “This lady here is my boss, I don’t need you getting me fired.”

  Madi stifled another laugh as she leaned into the back of Brett’s chair. He took her hand and laced his fingers through it, loving the sound of her enjoyment. It had been so long since he’d seen her this light and stress-free and he absorbed it himself.

  She smiled down at him, eyes sparkling, and he longed to shoot up, pull her into his arms and kiss her breathless; but he held back, if not for the kids’ sake, for Quillan’s. He might get jealous. Ha, who was Brett kidding? He was slightly intimidated by the six-foot-six-inch “beef-cake” as the girls had referred to Quil, seated across from him. He’d heard the ladies whispering about Quil when they didn’t think the other guys noticed. In all honesty, from a guy’s stand point, Quil was pretty—for a dude—so Brett could kinda understand why they all thought that.

  Soon, they were eating dinner, and Quinn was approving of Madi’s cooking, much to Madi’s comical, overdramatized relief. It was an enjoyable meal, and Quinn was quite entertaining discussing numerous topics that left Brett stunned. This kid was gonna be a genius…and a man killer. Quillan had his hands full.

  The guys cleaned up as the girls moved into the living room to watch Disney+. He and Quillan worked in companionable silence, Quil washing while Brett dried and put dishes away.

  “Thanks for having us over, Brett,” Quil said after they’d finished.

  “Glad to have ya, Quil. Thanks for helping clean up.”

  “Quick hands make light work, my abuela always said.”

  “Thanks for helping calm me down today, too.” Brett cleared his throat and looked away, guilt eating at him over how he’d treated Pax. He needed to call him, maybe suggest they hit the golf course one day and apologize, make things right.

  Quil patted his shoulder, and Brett looked up at him. “You know, I thought my life was over when Rian died. It had been hard with her drug addiction and raising Quinn practically alone, but then her death was yet another feat I had to overcome. It was like God was slapping me in the face. I was angry with everyone, especially Him. My daughter was ill, my wife loved cocaine more than her own flesh and blood, and I was pushed out of doing the one thing I’d always wanted. Life ceased to exist for me.”

  Wow! Brett had had no idea this had happened. All he’d known was Quil’s wife had died and he left the NFL, nothing more.

  “I went into solitude. Me and Quinn. Hoping to raise my daughter away from the disgrace of what her mother had done to humiliate us both. My daughter’s six. She didn’t really understand it all, but she knew something was off. We can’t protect them from everything.” Quillan shrugged. “But soon I saw that I wasn’t cut out for early retirement. My father was a hard-working man. He was a single father who worked long hours as a lumberjack to provide for me and my grandmother, who cared for me. I guess that value extended to me; I found myself floundering without football to keep me grounded, and Quinn saw it too.” Quil grinned. “One day she looked at me and, point blank, asked me why I’d “given up.” That opened my eyes. I realized that I had given up. Everything. Hope. Love. Life. I knew then that I owed it to my daughter, who’s a stronger fighter than I’ve ever been, not to stop fighting for what I love. Football. That was what I loved—aside from her and her mother. And I wanted to inspire her to follow her dreams. To seek her goals and never stop pursuing her passions.”

  “Well, she’s a good kid, Quil,” Brett said with a smile, hearing the little squirt giggling in the background.

  “She’s the only thing keeping my feet here on the ground. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. She’s my everything.”

  Brett understood that statement all too well. It was how he felt about Madison. That angel in the room next door was the reason he was breathing every day. He couldn’t do life without her in his, which was why he’d made the choices he had.

  “I can see Madi loves you, Brett, and you her.”

  Brett’s eyes warned Quil off, but he didn’t heed it.

  Quil’s hands came up in surrender. “I’m just saying, you can’t feel bad about what happened to Hunter. It wasn’t your fault. Just like Rian’s death wasn’t mine. Bad things happen and it’s out of our hands. We have to keep going though…for them.” Quil pointed to the room next door. “Don’t let your regrets and guilt and pain keep you from the Heaven we’re given here on earth. You both have hurt enough over what happened. Embrace the good that’s been left behind.”

  With that, Quil clapped a hand to Brett’s shoulder and gave him an understanding smile.

  He moved into the living room, leaving Brett to ponder wha
t he’d just said.

  Brett let Madi see them out and waved to his new teammate and the adorable little girl of his. Madi looked down then before approaching him, and he felt his heartbeat quicken.

  “I…I’m gonna go to bed, I think. I’m really tired.”

  “Madi,” he pleaded and reached his hand out to her.

  “Thanks for being a good sport.” She gave him a weak grin and turned away.

  Was she mad at him? Upset? Had someone told her how he’d acted at the complex today? Why was she being so distant with him?

  Great, as if I didn’t have enough shit to deal with, he thought and decided to hit the treadmill again.

  Madi’s eyes were sore and slightly puffy as she made her way downstairs to the weight room to work out the next day. She was surprised to see Brett pumping iron, all swoll and sweaty, and sexy as all get out.

  Dammit, her womanhood was soaking up the smell of his musk like he was freaking heroine and she, an addict. Her desire was full throttle and had been all week as he’d been so close yet so far away. She understood his distance, she knew why he was being this way, she’d heard about his temper in the weight room yesterday and she hadn’t been surprised. Mr. Cool and Collected had always held his emotions in and now he needed to expel them somehow—and as a football player, physical combat was the only thing he’d ever known. Brett was an alpha, an apex predator, and when he didn’t have prey he went stir crazy. It didn’t help that he’d felt inadequate all week with his poor skill during passing drills or the fact that a newbie had shown up to take Hunter’s place—or the fact that the sexual tension between him and Madi was crackling like a lightning storm on a summer day.