Page 5 of First Down Promise

Somehow, he always seems to be around when I’m at my most unattractive. Whether I’m bloated and breaking out from that time of the month, just waking up whenever they work out early, or times like this when I’m sweaty with my hair tied up in a rat’s nest.

He’s always here!

“Uh,” I gulp. “I made the squad!” I can’t hide my excitement from my voice, regardless of whether Josh will think I’m a dork, but he’s a dork too. I watched him sing karaoke drunkenly at Pete’s surprise birthday party earlier this year when he and Coop sang Islands in the Stream as a duet, which was as cringe as it was peak entertainment. Dane laughed so hard he nearly turned purple.

Pete’s eyes light up, and he sets his protein bar on the counter. “Congrats!” He gives me a quick hug, and I breathe in his spicy cologne. “You need to shower. Hair wash day?” he says, dropping his arms from me.

My cheeks burn as I step back. “Pete!” I groan, turning toward the stairs.

He chuckles. “What? You went to yoga.”

“How is that yoga place?” Josh asks as I walk by him.

I pause for a moment. “Um, it’s definitely a workout,” I squeak with a nod, but immediately wish I had come up with a better response. Of course, it was a workout. “Oh, and Pete. Don’t be mad, but I dropped my phone in the parking lot.” I pull it out of my pocket and set it on the island.

He shrugs, munching on a new protein bar. “Whatever. Just take it to the phone store. You’re an authorized user on my account,” he replies around a mouthful.

“You’re talented there, Ab,” Josh adds. My shoulders drop, and I narrow my eyes at him with a sigh. “Oh, come on. I’m allowed to tease you, too. You’re like the little sister I never had.”

I want to quip that I don’t need any more older brothers, but I exhale and accept defeat instead. “Imagine what that means to me,” I mutter under my breath as I start for the stairs.

Chapter Two

Josh

“Pete, you around?” I call out, closing the front door behind me.

“Yeah, in here, man,” Pete replies. I round the corner, and he’s shaking a protein shake bottle and scrolling his phone with the other. “Think she’s hot?” he asks, turning his phone around to show me. I glance around for Abby before answering, but he wouldn’t typically say something like that in front of her. The picture is of some chick, and yes, she’s conventionally hot—someone I could see Pete going after. “Have you slept with her already?”

I look him in the eye and scowl. “No.”

“Good, might need to slide into her DMs.” Pete sets his phone on the counter and starts chugging his protein shake.

This kind of blatant objectification isn’t normal for him. Something about Abby being around for the past couple of years has kept Pete honest in a way. He’s more focused on ball than he is on girls and thinking with his little head, but I knew he’d crack eventually.

Since Abby moved here, Pete’s still hosted a few blowout parties, with other professional athletes, influencers, and models showing up each time, but I never missed the way she’d come downstairs for snacks and quietly return upstairs. One time, she came down in a long, fluffy robe and headphones on. She was still in college and trying to study, but the house was booming with music and people. It was becoming all too obvious how little she wanted to make herself at home in a place where she should feel at home. Women normally flirted with me at Pete’s parties, but anyone I brought home was just a fling. But Abby stuck with me.

I remember meeting her when she was fresh out of high school with her self-esteem in the gutter, in true teenage form. She was quiet, blushed a little too hard when I shook her hand, and made herself little then too. At least my sisters were older and never had to live in my shadow. I knew Pete was going to be a real one from his rookie season, so I made sure I remembered his family. And his folks were the nicest people I’d ever met.

I run my hand over my hair. Why does bad shit have to happen to good people?

Two years ago, when Abby came to town permanently, I couldn’t believe how much she had matured at twenty. And now? With that never-ending caramel hair and big gray eyes with a touch of warmth in the center… Oh my God. I’m eight years older than her, and she might as well have OFF LIMITS tattooed across her perfectly sized forehead.

I also remember the first time the guys hung out after her move to Nashville. “Don’t,” Dane the sage quietly warned me then, when my eyes might have lingered a little too long. Maybe it was attraction. Maybe it was fascination. I knew little about her other than what she studied in college. I still want to know more—her favorite color, what her dream is, what kind of guy she’s into. But I’m so fucking awkward around her. Like mentioning she was a little sister to me? I could have puked.

“You listening?” Pete says.

I clear my throat. “Yep. Preseason is almost here. Dude, I don’t know why you’re so bothered. Coach doesn’t even play us. It doesn’t matter.”

We’ve typically lost our preseason games. Most teams in the league don’t care about them because anything before Week One doesn’t affect our playoff seed, hence why us starters don’t play.

“I know, but QB two is a rookie and playing. I’ve been trying to build up his confidence,” Pete adds. “I want to know how he’ll do if I get hurt. I had a close call last season, you know.”

“This is our season, but I’m sure he’ll be great,” I reply. “I think the new tight end is playing. Have to see how he does at the professional level, too.”

Another rookie, but a promising one in case I ever get injured. Some rookies choke when they reach the professional level. For a minute, I was worried that would be Pete’s story, but he came through, getting better each season. Still, I locate some wood under the kitchen island and knock on it for luck. In my seven professional seasons, I’ve never been put on injured reserve and have only missed a handful of games because of a couple of concussions and then a sprain that resolved within a couple of weeks.

“Me too. He’s one to watch in case you ever retire, old sport,” Pete teases.