Page 51 of First Down Promise

Josh

Waiting inside by my front door for Abby to pick me up Thursday night wasn’t on my bucket list, nor was potentially spending the night at Pete’s while he’s in New York City. Unfortunately, this is the last free night of bye week with my party tomorrow night, and it was Abby’s idea to spend it together. But I would have pitched the idea if she hadn’t.

Has it occurred to me that I’m an asshole for not just having sex with Abby but now going to Pete’s house with him gone? Of course. But who knows when the next opportunity for us to be together is? The regular season ends in a few weeks, but if we make it to the playoffs, that could add another month and a half, depending on how we do. It could be practically Valentine’s Day by the time we tell Pete about us.

Headlights sweep across my front windows, pulling me out of my thoughts. Her white SUV turns into the driveway, so spiraling will have to wait. She’s picking me up, so we can spend some time on her turf after two nights in a row at my house.

As I open the front door, she’s standing by the driver’s door of her SUV. Barefaced, with her hair in a messy bun, she’s wearing an oversized Stallions sweatshirt with leggings underneath. I’ve seen her dressed cute, even hot, but she just seems so much more comfortable now. And I take it as a good sign that she can be her total self with me.

“Hi,” she breathes as I approach her. I cup the side of her neck and brush my thumb over her jawline.

“Hi,” I reply. She tilts her chin up, and I take the opportunity to kiss her.

“Want to get takeout on the way?” she asks.

“You might be one of the only cheerleaders who actually eats,” I tease. “Let’s do it.”

Her SUV is spacious enough—not as spacious as Dane’s or Pete’s Yukon, but it’ll do. I scoot my seat back and pull up my phone to mobile order something as she drives.

“Going to comment on my driving?” she jokes, turning out of our neighborhood.

“No, you seem like a pretty safe driver,” I say, half distracted by my phone. Then her meaning hits me, and I look up from my screen. She frowns and stares ahead through the windshield.

“Losing your parents in a car accident will do that to you.”

“That tracks. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m glad Pete got me an SUV like this. It feels so much safer than his car,” she adds.

“Couldn’t agree more,” I reply. “And he’s a shit driver.”

She laughs softly and nods. “Yeah, he kind of is.”

When we pull up to the restaurant, she parks and runs inside to pick up our order while I stay in the idling car. I’m just a touch too identifiable, or else I would have gone in. Maybe someday, after I retire, I won’t be as recognizable and could live normally again. But anyone paying attention would know who Abby is, too.

She returns with a brown paper bag, and the smell of fried rice and orange chicken immediately fills the car. My stomach growls, reminding me how little I’ve eaten since my workout. Fortunately, we’re not far from Pete’s.

A few minutes later, Abby pulls straight into the garage, and I notice Pete’s cars are parked there, too. “He had a driver,” Abby says, noticing what I’m focused on.

“Oh, that makes sense. He fly private?” I ask, and she nods.

“Yeah. Can’t imagine the holy Pete Wilson waiting in a TSA line,” she jokes.

“He’s definitely too precious for that.” We walk into the house from the garage, and I follow Abby down the hall to the kitchen. The air inside is a little too still for my liking. No game is on the TV. Regardless of the time of year, Pete always has some sport playing, calling out plays from the couch. “Are we sure he’s really in New York?” I ask, rubbing the side of my neck.

Abby glances over her shoulder at me as she unpacks the bag. “Yeah, he’s not back until after your party.” She pauses and reaches for her phone, unlocking it with her fingerprint. “Still in New York City. Just updated now,” she adds after a couple of taps on the screen.

My stomach tightens. “You, uh, paused location sharing, right?”

“Of course. I turned it on before we left the restaurant,” she answers.

“I hate this sneaking. I really fucking do,” I groan.

She gives me a small smile. “I know, but it’s not forever.”

“Does Pete have any cams inside?”

“A couple, but they only turn on if the security system is enabled,” she answers.