Playbook (The Holland Brothers 2)

“You know, the only time we hang out anymore is when you’re dragging me to your boyfriend’s games.” Alec glances at me out of the corner of his eye as we shuffle down the row.

“Oh, please, don’t act like you mind.”

My roommate grins. “Could have at least sprung for better seats. I cancelled a date for this.”

“You did not cancel, you told her you’d meet up with her later.”

“Whatever. Same thing.” His gaze is now locked on the field. “So is there a plan?”

“Showing up is the plan,” I tell him as we settle into our seats. There’s a pole blocking half my view, but the players are so little down there I’m not sure it matters.

“How is showing up and sitting so far up he can’t even see you to know you’re here the plan?”

I scowl at him. I thought a lot about what Sierra said, how showing up and being there was important, even if he hadn’t asked me to be, and decided she was right. I want to support him, even if it means sitting in the nosebleed section at a game he’s playing while he has no idea I’m here. When he’s ready, tonight or weeks from now, I’ll still be here. Hopefully, he’s ready before playoffs because that’s a whole lot of football in my future. Maybe I should learn some of the rules.

The game is close. Alec tells me the same things Sierra had about Kansas City. Or I think it’s the same. I get the punchline: they’re good. I’m not usually so anxious watching Brogan play, but my stomach is in knots from the second the ball is snapped.

I spend the first quarter drinking the foamy beer to calm my anxiety, then realize at this rate I’ll be drunk before halftime so I switch to water.

The jumbotron zooms in on Brogan as he jogs out to his position after the huddle. His brown eyes have an intensity that he usually reserves for sex, and my lady parts tingle. I miss sex with him. I miss laughing with him. I miss him.

I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone this much. No, I know I haven’t. I can’t imagine not seeing him or talking to him. He’s under my skin and I want to keep him there.

I hope when he’s able to see through all the hurt his parents inflicted that he wants to be there too. And more than anything, I hope he knows that there’s nothing he could share with me that would make me care about him less.

His parents not loving him makes me hate them with a fiery passion I wasn’t sure I was capable of. It makes my hatred of Chris feel like a cute little grudge by comparison.

It breaks my heart. He’s good and wonderful. Maybe it’s because of what he’s been through, maybe it’s in spite of that.

I know he’s lovable because I’ve never loved anyone more than I do him.

Suddenly, I feel like I can’t sit still. Maybe it’s not about being patient and waiting for him to need me, but about continually telling him all the amazing things I love about him until he has no choice but to believe it.

When people don’t love us the way we want to be loved, we decide it’s our own character flaw. It’s not. It just means someone else is out there waiting for you, ready to love you in all the ways you deserve.

I want to be that person for him. Or at least one of them.

At halftime I clutch my phone in my hands, willing him to call or text like he did the night we met up at the bar after the game. That night changed my life, and I don’t want to go back to before.

“Maybe I should text him,” I say to Alec.

He’s scrolling on his own phone, but looks up with one brow cocked. “No.”

“Why not? He called me at halftime. Remember?”

“Yeah, it’s sexy when a guy does it, but needy and demanding when girls do.”

I scowl at him. “That’s sexist!”

“I don’t make the rules.” He shrugs.

I don’t text Brogan. Not because I think it’s needy but because I don’t want to distract him. He has enough going on and I don’t know where his head is at.

The game is tied and there’s a nervous energy in the stadium that’s bled into me, making me more anxious than I was earlier. I guess I care about football now. Or at least a single football player, and I know he’ll be disappointed if they lose.

The third and fourth quarters are back and forth. My fingers are red from where I’ve been clenching my hands into fists and then sitting on them to stop myself. The Mavericks are down by three with less than a minute to go. I feel helpless and sick to my stomach.

“God, you’re antsier than me.” Alec places a hand on my leg to stop it from bouncing.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

“You are really not cut out to be a football wife.”

“I just hope I’m still a football girlfriend,” I mutter. “I’ll worry about my iron stomach later.”

The stadium is on their feet when the Mavericks get into position on the field. I go between watching on the big screen to staring down at the field, all the while watching Brogan. When the ball is snapped, he runs at a slant toward the sideline. Cody scans and steps back, then fires the ball toward Brogan. He’s still running toward the end zone but somehow manages to catch the ball over his shoulder.

The crowd erupts and we all scream as Brogan sprints toward the end zone with defenders chasing after him. One defender gets close, and I hold my breath. Brogan holds out an arm, keeping the guy away from him and then somehow pushing him to the ground, all while running at an incredible speed.

When he crosses over and makes the touchdown it feels like the ground shakes with the excitement. Alec and I turn to each other, jumping and yelling, then I turn back to watch Brogan celebrate. His teammates on the field rush him, and the ones on the bench sprint onto the field. It’s madness.

“We have to get down there,” I say to Alec. If we don’t start that way, we’re going to be blocked by the thousands of people in front of us.

We jog down many, many flights of steps to the lowest area, then down to where people are going onto the field. Security is tight and there’s no way we’re going to be allowed on.

“Flash your press badge around or something,” I say to Alec.

“I’m a weatherman.”

“Doesn’t that count for something?” I groan, then spot a familiar head and renewed excitement surges through me. “Wait, there’s Archer.”

He’s at the edge of the field in a group, but it’s definitely him. I can see his profile and he’s grinning wide at the field where Brogan is still celebrating.

I start to yell for Archer, but it’s so noisy in here I know he’ll never hear me. And there is no pushing my way through.

“Holland!” I yell with everything I have. My throat burns. Someone taps him on the shoulder and points, and he turns.

I wave when he spots me. Then he starts for me.

“Hi.” I lean closer to him as I scream the greeting, but I can’t even hear myself.

Archer grins at me, then yells, “You’re here?”

He looks confused, like maybe he thinks I shouldn’t have come. I try not to let it deter me.

“I need to see him.” I point to the field.

“You’re here?” he asks again.

I wave a hand in front of me.

He’s smiling bigger. “But you weren’t home.”

“What?” I’m not sure I’m hearing him right.

He leans over to the security guard and says something, then Alec and I are allowed to pass by.

“I went by your place to give you this.” Archer pulls an envelope from his back pocket. I recognize Brogan’s slanted penmanship. I take it, feeling my insides swirl. “Brogan wanted me to give it to you. I started to leave it under your door, but I wasn’t sure what to do when you didn’t answer.”

“I must have already been on the way here.”

He nods, then glances to the envelope.

My fingers shake as I open it up. It has the familiar style of the letters we exchanged when we first met. It’s folded in thirds on white copy paper.

London,

Meet me after the game?

x,

Brogan

With the letter are two tickets for the game.

“You mean to tell me we could have been in a box?” Alec asks, looking over my shoulder. He curses under his breath.

“Where were you sitting?” Archer asks.

“Nosebleed section.” I give him a sheepish smile, then notice the three other guys who were standing with him before have followed him over. And they’re all looking at me.

Not just looking at me. They’re grinning ear to ear and watching me like they know me.

“Uhh…” I start, and then it clicks. “Your brothers.”

“Oh, right.” Archer turns to them. “Guys, this is London, but I see you creepers have already figured that out.”

“Nice to meet you.” One of them steps forward. He has a nice smile that he continues to aim at me. He looks a little older than Archer and Brogan, dark hair, hazel eyes. He’s wearing a Mavericks shirt under his jacket.

“You too.” I take his hand. “You must be Hendrick.”

His smile gets impossibly bigger. “That’s right.”

“The oldest.”

The others laugh.

“And the reason Brogan wanted to be a football player when he was younger,” I add.

I pick Flynn out by his unruly russet-colored hair and baby face.

“You must be the future major league baseball star.” I nod at him, and he blushes.

“And that makes you….” I lock gazes with the third. He has the same hint of mischief about him as Brogan, but a harder edge. “Knox. The motocross rider.”

“Also known as the biggest pain in the ass,” Archer says.

Knox runs his tongue along his top teeth and tries to fight a grin.

“I thought you said he screwed things up,” Knox says to Archer, signing as he speaks.

“He said that, not me.” Archer locks gazes with me. “But I think he was mistaken.”

The noise around us gets louder. The players have moved closer, and people are calling out to get their attention. I resist glaring at several women yelling for Brogan.

“Come on, I’ll take you to him,” Archer says.

I look to Alec, who is still standing behind me.

“Go, go,” he says.

“Thank you.” I hug him before turning to follow Archer.

“You owe me box seats,” Alec calls after me.

Archer and his brothers flank me on all sides as we move through the crowd. I’m too short to see over them, so I trust we’re making progress.

When we come to a stop, I can hear Brogan, but he still sounds like he’s a little ways away.

Archer is in the front and he turns to me. “I can’t get us any closer.”

I lift onto my toes, but it’s useless.

“Sorry about this.” Archer steps closer and crouches in front of me, then pulls me up onto his shoulders.

“Oh,” I yelp and grab on to his bicep with one arm and his head for balance, but his grip is locked on me. My fear lasts only a few seconds because I’m tall enough now I can spot Brogan.

I yell his name, but it gets lost in all the other shouts.

“We got you,” Knox says to my right. He cups his hand around his mouth and yells, “Yo, Six!”

Then they all join in. People nearby start to notice and the five of us keep screaming Brogan’s name.

I see the moment he hears us. He stills and then scans the crowd. Our eyes lock and I wave awkwardly.

His grin makes my insides light up. He cuffs one of his teammates on the shoulder and says something, then moves toward us. The crowd parts much more easily for him than us.

Before I have any idea what to say to him, he’s in front of us. Archer sets me down while his brothers congratulate Brogan.

“Thanks, guys. Appreciate you all being here.”

“That was a great game. We’re so proud of you.” Hendrick hugs him, then they all step back to give us some room.

“I see you met my brothers,” he says.

“Yeah.” I laugh. “They’re handy in a crowd.”

His smile remains, but his eyes soften. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come. I’m sorry I was such a wreck this week. I wanted to reach out, but after the way I acted, I wasn’t sure you’d want to hear from me.”

“I was never not coming. I’m here. Good and bad. Always. You’re my guy.” I open the front of my jacket to show him the Six jersey I’m wearing.

“I don’t deserve you.”

“Yes, you do. And I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe me. I wouldn’t sit through a football game for just anyone.”

“Good to know.” One side of his mouth inches higher.

“I don’t know a lot about the game, although I am a fan of you in football pants. Actually, the whole uniform really does it for me. Your arms, your chest, your butt…The way your hair curls out around the back of your helmet.” I wave a hand in front of him, and he smirks.

“But my favorite things about you have nothing to do with your ability to catch a ball or even your rugged good looks.” I hear his brothers snickering behind me. I turn to them. “Shocking, I know!”

I turn back to him. “I like how kind you are, how much fun you make the most mundane things. I admire your work ethic and how you make people feel loved and appreciated. People want to know you because they can sense how wonderful you are. I wonder if I made you feel half as adored as you made me feel the past couple of months. I hope so. And if not, I promise I will if you let me.” I take one more step toward him. “There are so many more things I like about you. The list is endless. I guess you could say I’m your biggest fan.”

He reaches forward and fists the material of my shirt, tugging me to him. Then, his mouth comes down onto mine and he kisses me hard.

When we come up for air, there’s a camera in our faces. I glance up at the jumbotron and want to hide behind my giant boyfriend.

“Better get used to it.” Brogan kisses my temple. “I plan on kissing you a lot more before we manage to make it out of here.”

And he does.