Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)

Flynn Holland Search Party

I laugh at the current name of our group text thread and then read through the messages that came in while I was in the shower.

Knox

Flynn, it’s been a whole week without a text back, little brother. Send proof of life or I’m showing up to campus tomorrow.

Archer

Oh, he’ll do it too. One time he dropped in at a high school party to yell at me and Brogan for staying out all night and not calling to tell him where we were.

Knox

It was three days, you missed school, and the principal was calling around to check. I had to do something.

Hendrick

No word from Flynn still? Should we call campus security? Maybe his coach?

Archer

I was thinking we should start a social media crusade.

Hendrick

Ooooh. Good call. That way all his friends can help us piece together his last whereabouts.

Flynn

For the love of…I’m alive. I was sleeping.

Knox

For six days? How do I know it’s you and not someone else?

Flynn sends a selfie, his reddish-brown hair a mess on his head and his eyes droopy with sleep, flipping-off the camera.

Flynn

That good enough?

Knox

No. Where the hell have you been?

Hendrick

I think what he meant to say was, we’re glad you’re okay. We’ve missed you. Could you please check in more frequently? We worry about you.

Knox

No, I said exactly what I meant.

Flynn

It’s too early for this much dysfunction. I’m going back to bed.

Knox

Yo, Brogan. You were right.

Me

Always. What specifically are you referring to?

Knox

Her eyes really are the color of grass.

He sends the picture I posted of me and London at the bachelor party. Seeing us together and her smiling makes me smile.

Me

Right?

Hendrick

This is the girl, huh? I’d like to meet her.

Me

We’ll see.

Knox

What does that mean?

Me

I don’t want to scare her off so soon.

Knox

If she’s dating you I don’t think that’s possible.

I head out into the living room where Archer is kicked back on the couch, his feet on the ottoman, watching TV. He glances over when I plop down next to him.

“Hey,” I say, gaze flicking to the screen. The TV is muted, but subtitles are on. They’re showing highlights from this week’s games and doing predictions for the coming weekend. We had a bye this weekend, but next Sunday we play Baltimore and they’re undefeated so far this season.

“When’d you get home?”

“Not long ago,” I say and sign. “Next weekend is going to be tough. Any word from the docs if you’ll be able to play?”

“They think so.” The relief on his face is palpable.

“Hell yeah. Finally.” It’s not been the same playing without him. We’ve been on the same team since we were eight years old. When I look up the field and he’s not there it just feels wrong. And I know he hates not being able to contribute to the team. It’s different when it’s your job. Teams are businesses and make decisions to help the bottom line. I know Archer is good for the team, but that’s because I’ve spent years watching him. The Mavericks don’t have that kind of history to rely on.

“What are you doing tonight? I was thinking about having some people over.”

I nod. “Yeah. That’s perfect. I can invite London.”

He grins. “How’s that going?”

“Good. Great actually. We’re legit. No more pretending.”

His brows rise. “You’re together together?”

“Mhmm.” My smile doesn’t falter.

“I don’t know what to say. Congrats?”

A rough chuckle escapes. “Congratulations will do. I was thinking maybe I’d take her down to Valley to meet everyone.”

I get up and go into the kitchen and he follows. I pull out some leftovers from two nights ago and sniff the container, then toss it in the microwave. Archer’s got that pensive, constipated look on his face still.

“What?” I prompt, knowing he has something he wants to say.

“Nothing.”

“Bullshit. You’ve got something to say, so say it. You were right. Is that what you want me to say? Fine. You were right. She’s great, and I really like her.”

“That’s not it. It just seems like you changed your mind really fast. A week ago you were sure you weren’t ready and now you want to take her home to meet the family? I like London. I like her for you. But you don’t need to rush things.”

I tamp down the unsettling feeling of being the problem child of the relationship so early. Am I already fucking this up?

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone.”

“I believe you and I’m stoked, but taking her to Valley is a big step…”

“You don’t think I’m good enough for her?” I ask the question I’ve asked myself about a dozen times since last night.

“The fuck I don’t.” He stands a little taller. “You’re the best guy I know. Hands down. No contest.”

“Then what?” I ask, not sure I want the answer, but needing to hear it anyway.

“Have you told her anything about your parents?”

“She doesn’t need to hear about that bullshit.” I scowl at him. “Have you told Wren all your family drama?”

He makes a face that confirms my suspicions that he hasn’t. His jaw flexes and he briefly looks away.

“We aren’t defined by our parents,” I tell him. “Except your mom. The rest don’t have any bearing on who we turned out to be.”

“Don’t you think we should be able to share that stuff with someone though? Don’t you want to?”

“No.” I don’t even have to think about it. “It’s in the past.”

“Is it? What about Sabrina?”

“I haven’t heard from her since the letter,” I admit. “And the last thing London wants to hear is that I have some fucked-up person claiming to be my sister so she can get paid.” The idea makes shame and anger swirl in my gut.

Archer’s voice drops. “Like it or not, our experiences have made us who we are. You’re a great fucking guy. You shouldn’t need to hide any of that from her.”

Easier said than done. Talking about it puts me right back in that place. I don’t want to hide it from her as much as I just want to forget about all of it.

I do also hate the look of pity when people know my situation. Luckily, I’ve been able to keep it mostly to my small circle. When I say that the Hollands are my family, I mean it and people don’t question it. I know I’ll never be to them what they are to me, but that’s okay. They have each other, real brothers, and I’ll never be that. How could I?

The bonds between family, real family, are different. I believe that even if my own experience proved otherwise. But Archer and his brothers have been there for me every time I’ve needed them. That’s enough for me.

I’m still thinking about it when London gets to the apartment. She’s holding a bottle of champagne and looking sexy in jeans and a black tank top. And just like that, the last thing I feel like doing is talking about deadbeat parents and family dynamics.

“You’re late.”

“I brought booze.” She holds up the champagne.

I take it from her and then loop an arm around her waist and drag her into the apartment. I drop my mouth to hers and kiss her hard.

She’s breathless when I pull back. “Wow. Maybe I should have mentioned it’s cheap booze.”

Laughing, I take her hand in mine. “Around here, it gets drunk the same way.”

I stop in the kitchen and drop off the bottle before leading her down the hall. “I want to show you something.”

“Is that something, you naked?” Her laughter tinkles and echoes in the narrow space.

“Make that two things I want to show you.” I walk to my room and step in, flipping on the light.

“Oh my gosh.” Her eyes widen as she steps in behind me. “What happened to your bed and the box you were using as a nightstand?”

“Gone and gone.”

I shove my hands in my pockets as she moves toward the bed. It’s the one we made out on in the store. I went back to pick one out for the spare room, but I kept being drawn to this one.

“Do you like it?”

“It’s gorgeous.”

I beam inside and out. “Recognize the bed?”

She swivels her head and looks at me over her shoulder, then back at the bed. “Oh my gosh. Is this…”

“Yep.” I step to her. “The location of our first kiss.”

“Technically, it was our second.”

My lips press to hers, but before I can get carried away, I stop. “There’s more.”

I walk over to the wall and incline my head to the framed illustration. It’s the one she drew of me in my uniform holding red lacy panties. I had it printed and found a nice frame.

Her jaw drops and she walks toward it with a look of pure disbelief. “You kept it?”

“Of course. It’s the coolest thing anyone has ever given me.”

“I drew it in like five minutes,” she says as she runs her fingers along the edge of the frame. “If I’d known you were going to put it up on your wall I might have spent a little more time on it.”

“It’s perfect.” She’s perfect.

She shakes her head and turns in a circle to take in the entire room. Besides the bed, I got a nightstand, a dresser, and a mirror that hangs over it. The saleslady said it all went together. I didn’t think I cared much about the room, but now seeing her approval makes me glad I did.

“I thought you were picking out a bed for the spare room.” She faces me, hands going to her hips.

“I did that too. Moved my old bed frame into the spare, got a couple of nightstands and a lamp.”

“I hope you don’t expect me to sleep in there.”

“Hell no. You belong in here.”

She leans up on her toes to kiss me. Noise in the hallway interrupts us.

“Sorry,” Tripp says, covering his eyes, but then peeks through them. “I’m going to do a beer run. You need anything?”

“Stay. We’ll go,” I tell him.

“You sure? I’ve got a whole list.”

“Yeah. Text it to me.”

“Cool.” He raps his knuckles against the doorframe.

“What if I want to stay?” London asks when he’s gone.

“Nope.” I scoop her up and put her on my shoulder, stopping only to grab my keys on the way out. “You’re coming with me, sweetheart.”

The drive is nice. I’m not really in the mood to party and I like having London all to myself. We go to the liquor mart and I grab a cart.

I hand her my phone. “Read it off to me.”

We wander down aisles picking out everyone’s special requests. By the time we’re finished, we’ve got more alcohol than could possibly be drunk in one night.

My phone pings with a text while she’s still holding it in the checkout line.

“Oh, sorry.” She averts her gaze and tries to hand it back to me.

“Who is it?”

“Uhhh…” She looks at me like she’s gauging whether or not I really want her to check my phone before she glances back at the screen. “Joey is calling.”

“That’s my agent. I’ll call him back later.”

She silences it and then holds it out to me again.

“Put it in my pocket for me,” I say as I load up the counter with our purchases.

She does, grinning as she slides the device into my front pocket. I take the opportunity to lean forward and kiss her.

Once we’ve paid and gotten everything in the truck, we start back for the apartment.

“Pick a song.” I hand her my phone again.

“You are very free with this thing tonight,” she says, taking it.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know. Aren’t you worried I’m going to snoop around and find all your secrets?”

“Have at it. Just avoid the folder labeled blackmail.”

Her brows rise. “Well, now I have to look.”

“I wouldn’t if I were you.”

A second later I know when she’s not heeded my warning.

“Oh my god. Are those…balls?”

“Yep. Slade.”

“I so did not need to see that.”

“I did try to warn you.”

“Why do you have this? How did you get this?”

“He took my phone and snapped some pictures of his balls thinking it was funny and probably assuming I was going to delete them.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Was the folder name not clear enough for you?” I ask.

“You wouldn’t blackmail anyone.”

“Nah, probably not, but it’s good to have leverage.”

“Boys are very odd,” she says, then continues to look through my phone.

I’m not at all worried. Okay, I’m not too worried. If she looked back far enough, I’m sure there’s some sexting with other women or dirty photos, but she’s the only one I’ve been talking to since we made our agreement.

“How old are you here?” she asks after a few minutes. She holds the phone up to show a picture of me and Archer in our junior high football uniforms.

“Seventh grade,” I say. “That was the last game of the season.”

“Did you win?”

“I don’t know,” I say, realizing it’s true. I think we did. I remember taking the photo and I remember it all feeling strange because it was the first game where Rosie wasn’t in the stands cheering us on. The reminder of her makes me reconsider Archer’s words from earlier.

“That was right after Archer’s mom died,” I say. “She’d been sick with cancer for a while so it wasn’t exactly a surprise, but we were still wrecked.”

“I’ll bet,” she says, a hint of sympathy lacing her tone. “That’s so young to lose a parent.”

I lift the rose necklace up with a finger. I told her last night that it belonged to Archer’s mom but remembering what Archer said, I decide to give her a little more truth. “Her name was Rosie. I gave it to her one year for Christmas. I mowed lawns and did landscaping jobs for a month to save up for it. I thought I was clever getting her a rose charm because of her name. When she died, we found like three other necklaces that were similar. Guess I wasn’t so clever after all.”

“I bet she loved it anyway.”

I nod. “She pretended to for me. I think she knew how bad it was for me at home. She always made me feel special and wanted.”

The truck goes quiet. London puts the phone in the cup holder and then scoots over and takes my hand.

“She sounds really wonderful. I’m glad you had her.”

“Yeah, me too.” I huff a short, brittle laugh. “I don’t know where I’d be if it weren’t for her.”

London looks up at me with a thousand questions in her eyes. “I want to ask, but I know it’s probably hard to talk about.”

I nod in reply.

“Just…you know that you can always talk to me, right?”

I squeeze her hand. “Yeah. I know.”

She doesn’t question me or push me to talk more and I’m grateful. Talking about Rosie feels like a lance to the heart. I often think about how if it still hurts me this badly, how much worse it has to be for Archer and his brothers.

I clear my throat and attempt to lighten the mood. “Have you talked to Sierra today?”

“Yes.” She laughs softly. “She was nursing a pretty wicked hangover.”

“I’ll bet.”

“But she had a blast last night. Thank you.”

“It was nothing. You planned it all.”

“Maybe, but the limo and the club were the cherry on top.”

I open my mouth to say something dirty but her hand flies to cover it before I can. “Don’t ruin this very nice moment.”

I chuckle around her hand. “Anything you say, sweetheart.”