Page 4 of First Down Promise

“It’s not even real golf,” he says. “But that’s fine.”

I would absolutely embarrass myself in front of Josh at the driving range, hitting the stupid tee more than the ball. Plus, the guys were strangely good at golf, which I learned the hard way at a charity tournament a couple of months ago. Damn them for their unnatural athletic abilities, but I’d have them beat on any dance floor.

“I’m going to a yoga class this afternoon, anyway.”

“Good! Use that damn membership you’re making me pay for,” he teases.

I squint at him, but I’m not serious. “Some yoga would do you good, you know. Like ballet did for the QB The Rock played in The Gameplan.”

Pete lets out a brief snort and pushes off the doorframe. “I’ll keep that in mind. I’m getting out of here.” But before he walks away, he nods at my degree on the wall. “This mean you’re staying in Nashville?”

“For the time being, I guess,” I answer.

“I like having you around. You know that.” He extends his wrist and raises his eyebrows at the time. “I’m going to be late. See ya, Abs!” he calls over his shoulder after turning for the hallway.

Currently an unemployed graduate, Pete told me when I graduated to take my time finding a job, mentioning I could wait until after the upcoming season to get one. He elaborated that I should enjoy being twenty-two with no responsibilities and added that he would still fly me to the away games. I shouldn’t be a burden to him, and when I expressed my concern, he just laughed and cited his multi-million-dollar contract extension.

“After the new year. Till then, just be twenty-two,” he said. “Not too much, though. I don’t want random dudes hanging around you.”

As if.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and my heart leaps. Maybe it’s the squad. Or, even better, Josh is finally ready to admit his feelings for me. Not that he ever showed any signs of thinking of me as more than Pete’s sister. Dating was as foreign to me as dance would be to Pete, and trying to move on with Josh Mackenzie hanging around every minute didn’t help either.

I glance down at my phone, but it’s just a reminder about an upcoming oil change for my car. My shoulders drop, but I wasn’t out of the woods yet about the squad. Cheering would be a fun distraction, filling my time with meetings, practices, community service, and home games, if I made it. And it would look great on a resume, too, even though the cheerleaders don’t get paid well.

Before I leave the home office, I shift my lips to the side and view the framed wedding picture of Mom and Dad again. Mom’s bridal hair was insanely poofy, as were the shoulders on her dress, but the smile on her face is the one I remember from my childhood. My heart turns cold, though, as it remembers what their loss did to it, but Pete and I have each other. Dad would be proud of how much Pete stepped in for me and the kind of man he has become, although there’s a touch of arrogance that came with being a starting quarterback.

I pull my phone out again and open my gallery to my graduation day. Pete was more than known in Nashville, but he watched me walk like a good big brother. I choose to believe our parents were there too, in spirit. I tap into the picture of us standing in the grass at my university. I’m in my itchy graduation gown and Pete in a pastel dress shirt with khakis. Us Wilsons against the world.

I swipe through a few pictures and land on one taken at my graduation party the weekend after my formal graduation, where I’m squished between the guys. Coop has his arm around my shoulders in the photo with Pete’s arm at my waist, and Josh and Dane on either side of them. I was basically an adopted little sister to Coop and Dane, but I refuse to let myself think I’m that to Josh.

As I study the picture, all I can focus on is Josh’s bright smile, so I swipe a couple of photos over to the one of just Josh and me. I took an individual photo with each of the guys, but this one, in particular, I’ve studied an unhealthy number of times. Usually when I feel lonely, like late at night, I fantasize about what life with Josh would be like.

From the outside, dating a professional football player seemed glamorous, but I saw the other side of football—bruises, taped joints, endless bags of ice.

The Iron Stallions deserved a championship already after coming so close but never making it to the biggest game. It would have made Dad’s entire year, decade even, if they won one, and he got to wear a blingy championship ring his boy earned, even for just a minute.

I shut the door to the office behind me and start upstairs to my room to change for yoga. I pull on a pair of high-waisted biker shorts and a long-line sports bra that can pass as a cropped tank top. I normally tried to wear long pants, but the heat has been extra brutal this summer.

On my way out of the yoga class an hour later, sweat beads along my hairline as I walk toward my sparkly white Audi SUV Pete bought me as promised. As I open the driver’s door, my phone vibrates in my sweaty palm and slips from my hand, making a cracking noise against the parking lot’s asphalt.

I clench my jaw as I squat to pick it up, bracing for the worst as I flip my phone over. The whole screen is shattered, and I thought the case was supposed to prevent this! Pete’s going to be a little ruffled since the phone is still so new.

But desperate to see the notification, I do my best to unlock it with my PIN and slide the notification bar down, where a new email is waiting for me.

Subject: Final Roster—Congratulations!

I scream out loud as I read the body of the email. A couple of people walking by shoot me a look. “I’m fine,” I say with a laugh and shift my eyes back to the cracked screen. I carefully set it in the cupholder next to my water bottle and close the car door behind me.

The drive home is a blur. Fortunately, the yoga studio is only a couple of miles from Pete’s house, and I make it home safely. When I pull up, Pete’s new G-Wagon is in the driveway, which is a little out of the ordinary. It was an upgrade from the Yukon and is wrapped in a custom matte black film with gold rims as a not-so-subtle nod to the team’s colors.

I open the garage door and drive past to park in my normal spot. Pete’s garage can hold four cars, and at the far end sits the Yukon he still takes out if he has friends with him.

“Pete, guess what?” I call, entering the house from the doorway that joins the house and garage. I hear Josh’s voice echoing, though I missed what he said, and I go still in the hallway by his golf clubs. Shit. I’m flushed head to toe from yoga and the heat, and I desperately need a shower. I step into the kitchen on the way to the stairs, and Pete and Josh are there, snacking.

“What am I guessing?” Pete asks, chewing on a protein bar. Josh is seated at the kitchen island, and Pete leans against it, facing him.

“Oh, hey,” I say to Josh as we make eye contact, but I look back to Pete quickly with the hope Josh will too. Normally, I would want him to look, but not in my current state with my workout clothes clinging to me.