The Bridge to a Better Life (13 page)

No, and she hadn’t had Blake in her life for so long either. This one night had been a stark reminder of all those lonely and awful evenings she’d spent alone in front of the television, trying to forget a past she could never completely erase.

“No, we had a deal.” A pressure was rising in her chest. She couldn’t let him leave like this. Not after tonight. “Blake, there’s nothing to forgive.”

A harsh sigh crested out from him, and his hand clenched on the door he was about to close. “There has to be something. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have left like that.”

Before she could muster a thought—even process what he’d said—he was striding across the yard in the moonlight to that bridge he’d built, the one he hoped would bring them back together. Their sweet little dog pranced behind him.

She sank down into the middle of the kitchen, the smell of truffle fries still strong and sweet in the air. He thought he’d done something wrong?

Of all the hurts she’d borne, that one she could not abide.

Sam Garretty had a knack for knowing what Blake needed, so it didn’t surprise him when his friend arrived two hours ahead of the rest of the guys on Saturday morning. He bear-hugged him at the door and clapped him on the back. Emotion squeezed his throat as he realized he’d never again play against Sam on the football field or hug him after a cutthroat game, regardless of which team won. God, he was going to miss that.

“Are you here to mother me?” he asked when they broke apart.

“Heck, I only mother my rookies. You’re way too old for that.” When Touchdown barked, Sam reached down to pet the dog. Though it was technically Natalie’s turn to watch him again, she was busy seeing to the lunch she would be serving them later.

When his friend straightened, they stood there smiling at each other like idiots for a moment.

“It’s good to see you, man.”

Sam gave his shoulder a slight shove. “You too.” He picked up his leather satchel and strolled inside after Blake and Touchdown. “Well, at least you’re not living in a hovel.”

“This house might be smaller than the one in Denver, but it’s still nice. Come on. I’ll show you where you can put your stuff.”

He led him upstairs and down the hallway to one of the three guest bedrooms. A few of the guys had said they didn’t mind sleeping on king blow-up beds in the basement. Grant had made him laugh by offering to sleep with him in his massive California King since he must be lonely out in the big bad woods.

“Jordan was upset to hear you won’t be bunking together,” he told Sam.

“Good. I hope you stuck him with Zack. That guy’s hair has gotten downright raggedy. I’m sure Mr. Dean can help him on that score.” He laughed and threw his satchel on the bed. “By the way, Jordan says he’s found the best Smuck award ever.”

Every time they got together, the last “winner” chose the next competition and the outfit for the new one. One time the game had involved how many marbles they could pick up in sixty seconds with their toes. Logan had “won” that one since he had the smallest feet. The “winner” had the honor of wearing knee-socks with fur on them. Hunter had picked them out, and everyone joked they must have belonged to one of his many exes. Another time, Zack had found some hideous hat with its own black light with the words
Alien Abduction Imminent
printed across the front.

The Smuck had to wear the piece-de-resistance in question for the duration of their time together, including whenever they went out in public. So far Blake hadn’t “won,” but they ganged up on him every time, hoping to make him a full member of the Smuck Club. And with Jordan as the most recent “winner,” he knew the QB was going to come at him hard.

“I’ve never ‘won’ the Smuck award,” he said, preening like a peacock, “so I’m not concerned.”

“You might be off your game this time,” Sam said, following Blake back to the kitchen as Touchdown raced ahead to his water bowl.

“How about I whip us up a Blake juice special, and we can chill on the deck?”

“Sounds good,” Sam said, resting his hip against the island. “So, how are things going?”

Blake opened the refrigerator and took out some organic apples, carrots, and pears. His mega-juicer would make short work of them. He dug into a cabinet and pulled out some chia seeds and maca powder to add to the drinks when he finished juicing.

“A local school board member asked Natalie’s mom to see if I’d be their new football coach,” he said in a neutral tone. It was the only offer that interested him right now, so it was the only one worth mentioning.

Sam scratched his cheek. “I can see their logic. Everyone outside the league thinks that if you played, you could probably coach.”

“We both know that’s not true. A football camp isn’t coaching.” And wasn’t that what concerned him? If he took this on, he didn’t want to let those kids down. They would want to win. Heck, he would want to win. It’s what he did.

“Doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea though.”

“I called the board member off the record.” He ran Sam through the conversation.

Cormack Daly
did
have big ideas, just like April had warned him, and Blake wouldn’t have been surprised if someone told him the guy collected sharks as a hobby. Blake had dealt with his kind before. He wasn’t sure he could be trusted, and the last thing he wanted was for word of their conversation to leak out. Natalie would be upset if she heard he was thinking about staying in town permanently. They were not in a place where he could even bring it up yet.

“I told him I didn’t have my long-term plans set, that I was just getting settled in Dare Valley and focusing on my upcoming football camp.” Of course, Cormack hadn’t liked the delay and had proceeded to sell him harder.

“Just because the guy’s a prick doesn’t mean the offer’s no good,” Sam told him.

“I know. They’ll need to hire a new coach soon though. They’ve already put one candidate on the back burner because of me.”

Sam sat on a bar stool as Blake juiced the fruit. He poured the juice into two glasses when he was finished and dug out spoons. They both dished some maca powder and chia seeds into their drinks, stirring in the companionable quiet.

“Do you want to do it?” Sam finally asked, standing up to put his spoon in the dishwasher. “I’m sure you’ve gotten plenty of other offers.” One thing he didn’t worry about with Sam was cleanliness. Now with some of the other guys…

“I’m still not sure I’m coaching material. And I…want a better idea of where things are going with Natalie before I make a commitment like that.”

“That’s understandable,” Sam told him as they headed out onto the deck.

Touchdown followed them, and then ran off to chase a couple squirrels leaping from tree to tree.

“I’m not sure when I’ll know…about Natalie. As for the coaching thing…I feel like I’ll have the answer after camp.”

Sam rested his hand on his shoulder when they both sat down. “It’s okay to spin your wheels for a bit and see where it takes you. What did Coach always say about plans?”

Leave it to Sam to be level-headed. “You’ll have to help me. Coach said a lot of things.”

“Never react to life. Be the determiner of your own fate. If Cormack presses you again, tell him you can’t make a decision yet. If he decides to wait, and you decide you want it, then it’s meant to be. If not, something else will come along to make you happy. Or you can fashion your own opportunity, just like you’ve done with the camp.”

His mouth tipped up in a smile. “I could pretty much kiss you right now.”

“Good Lord! You have gone crackers out here in the woods.” He jostled Blake’s shoulder playfully. “Drink your juice.”

The temperature was in the mid-eighties, and there were no clouds to mar the beautiful sunshine streaming down on the deck. He’d taken to spending most of his days out back, either reading up on coaching kids with intellectual disabilities or running through the progress on the camp with his assistant. And he’d been poring over the materials Special Olympics had sent him, making notations in the margins.

“How’s the camp shaping up?” Sam asked. “I told Coach I’d be helping you this year.”

“I called him to talk about the camp.” Coach had told Blake that he had a lot to offer the world and that he had every faith he’d figure out the next step, even suggesting he’d be a great coach if he decided to go that route. “He was supportive, but I could tell he wasn’t exactly thrilled I’d be stealing some of you guys. He told me you’d bowed out of Once Upon A Dare this year.”

Sam shrugged. “I found a replacement—like all of the other guys did. We weren’t about to leave Coach in a lurch. He needs to get over it.”

But Coach didn’t like last-minute changes. “You don’t have to help,” Blake made himself say.

“Like hell I don’t.” Sam kicked off his shoes and wiggled his toes in the sun. “Besides, I can help him next year—and you. Just couldn’t manage both this summer.”

“Thanks, man,” he said, kicking his shoes off too as he sipped his drink. Whoever said fruit juice was for sissies had never enjoyed the real thing.

“You know we have your back. So, how many applications have you received for the camp so far?”

“In less than a day, we received more than four hundred.”

Sam tilted his head to the side. “But I thought you were going to limit it to forty.”

“Exactly. I knew the need was great, but I wasn’t expecting
this
.” And he was still a bit shocked. He’d thought about trying to expand the camp, but this was the first one. It was on a tight timeline and he wanted to get it right. Next year, he could look at expanding.

“All right, we’ve waited long enough. Tell me how things are with Natalie,” Sam said, draining his juice and setting his glass on the small table between their chairs.

How to answer? Natalie talked with him whenever they swapped Touchdown, but he hadn’t been invited over for another meal. Likely because she didn’t want to raise his hopes too much. Of course, their
Outlander
watch party had pretty much shot his hopes to the moon. He’d gone around like a love-sick schoolboy for the past few days.

“Good, I think. She and the hotel are catering a few of our meals this weekend, except for Saturday night when we’ll go into town. I rented part of the Irish bar for us.”

There was an indelicate snort from his friend. “Catering, huh? That’s mighty nice of her.”

“Yes, it is.” He then told Sam the story about their friends-only meal the other night. “I think…she feels guilty about me leaving football and…hell, I’ll put it out there…I think she’s a little sorry for me because of Adam.”

“She probably feels guilty for leaving you like she did, especially now that you’ve forgiven her. And as far as her feeling sorry for you…you just lost your brother, man. There’s nothing wrong with a little compassion.”

But he wanted more than that from her. Isn’t that why he hadn’t said anything to her about Adam until coming to Dare Valley? His mind started spinning to a weird place, and since he wanted to retain his positivity about Natalie—about his hopes for a future with her—he changed the topic to his other favorite subject.

“Why don’t you tell me a bit about your upcoming season?” he asked. “Since we aren’t going to be playing against each other, you can spill the beans.” And it would give him a taste of what he’d been missing.

“Sure. And hey, that means I can call you and ask for advice now and again.”

“Yeah, you can.” Even he heard the glee in his voice.

Sam began walking him through the Washington Warriors’ offense and then moved onto their defense. By the time he rolled around to outlining their opponents for the coming season, there was a solid banging on the front door. Touchdown barked and darted to the front of the house.

“Guess our one-on-one is up,” Blake said, rising.

He jogged to the front door, fearing the guys would knock it off the hinges, and swung it open to reveal six hulking figures grinning back at him.

“Well, at least you don’t look like an ancient retiree,” Atlanta Rebels’ Jordan Dean barked out as he rushed him.

“I could still kick your ass,” he said, slapping him on the back as they hugged.

Then he went from one guy to the next, man-hugging each of them with all his strength. His football brothers were in the house. All was well in his world at this moment.

“I think I see more gray in your hair,” the Boston Stars’ prize wide receiver Logan Eastwood said when they broke apart. “Good thing Jordan brought his special hair dye.”

He cringed. He was going to have to lock his door at night.

“I’ll keep your hair safe, Blake,” New York Tigers’ QB Hunter Cahill told him as he stooped to pick up Touchdown.

“My hair is just fine,” he told them, hoping he was right. God, he wasn’t going gray, was he? Shit, he was way too young for that. He’d have to drink more smoothies or something.

“Your hair doesn’t hold a candle to mine,” San Francisco Stingrays’ defensive lineman Grant Thornton said, ruffling his messy page-boy brown locks that were the subject of many a fan tweet.

“Not even Jordan can compete with your do,” Sam said as he made his own round of greetings. “No one can.”