The Way We Touch: or Wrangling the Wide Receiver (The Bradford Boys)

The gala was a fairytale. We stayed longer than I expected, spinning around the dance floor in a swirl of starlight. Logan held me in his arms like my very own handsome prince, and when we finally got home, we barely made it through the door before he had me pinned against the wall.

Our reunion has been ravenous and aggressive, and I’ve loved every second of it.

We had brunch with Garrett, who claimed he took Lainey home after the event. I don’t know why he feels like he has to explain himself to me. He can date whomever he wants, even if he’s never really been the supermodel type. I don’t judge.

Strolling through Central Park, Logan and I hold hands. He buys me a bouquet of fresh-cut flowers at a little newsstand, and we stop off at Ray’s for pizza before walking to his apartment, where we spend our final night in each other’s arms.

Our beautiful getaway weekend comes to an end with us standing on the tarmac at 7 a.m. in the misty rain with the chill of winter lacing the gray air.

“I hate to say goodbye.” Blinking against the fog, I fight my tears.

“We’re not saying goodbye, although I am starting to see the drawback of timeshare planes.” He grumbles, holding me firmly in his arms at the base of the small staircase. “If it were my plane, I could fly back with you.”

“You couldn’t do that.” I force a smile. “You have a game tonight.”

Leaning down, he kisses the side of my cheek. “I really like thinking of you watching me play. I wish I could look up and see you in my box.”

I don’t want to tell him how difficult it would be for me. Instead, I simply say, “One of these times.”

“Thanksgiving?” He slides a finger along my jaw, gazing into my eyes. “We have a game on Black Friday every year.”

In the past I’d be shopping or hiding out from where Jack and Zane (and Craig and Thomas) would be glued to the screen all weekend. I’m part of the club now, knotted stomach and all, and I can’t tell my gorgeous boyfriend no.

“Then I’ll be here.”

A different flight attendant gently clears her throat. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but we do need to get going if we’re going to stay on schedule.”

He leans down to kiss me for real. Our tongues curl together, and I can’t hold back a little sob. He pulls my lips before kissing a line to my cheek where a stubborn tear has fallen.

“These tears.” His voice is rough, and he slides his thumb over the top of my cheek. “They hit me hard.”

Reaching up, I brush a fresh one away, doing my best to smile through the ache of leaving. “Would you rather I didn’t cry?”

“I’d rather you stayed.” He pulls me to him again, exhaling heavily. “It’s harder to let you go this time.”

“I know.” My voice is quiet. I love you… But I save those words for a better time, and instead I rise on my toes once more to kiss him. “I’ll be watching you tonight.”

“I’ll be thinking of you.”

I text Craig as soon as I’m alone on the plane.

He introduced me as his girlfriend.

Craig

Sounds serious.

We’re so different, but we’re so good together. How did this happen?

Craig

You’re not so different. He’s BFFs with Gary. I think you have more in common than you think.

But he comes from so much wealth and privilege, and I come from… Cooters & Shooters.

I can’t help adding a crying-laughing emoji. Even though I still ache to be with Logan, my tank is so full of fizzy, happy love.

Craig

You’re both driven and talented and hot.

You think I’m hot?

Craig

Hotter than a pepper sprout.

I’ll be home before noon. Sweet talk Thomas into making me a hamburger. I didn’t get breakfast.

Craig

Thomas will happily make you a burger, no sweet-talking required.

You’re both too good to me.

Leaning back in my chair, I consider how different the flight home is from the flight to New York. I’m content, calm, missing him like crazy, but utterly full—and after four nights barely sleeping, I crash the minute I put my phone down.

It’s a different world standing in the kitchen at Cooters & Shooters in my cutoffs and bare feet, eating a delicious hamburger Thomas made for me.

“I have to get ready for school, but I wanted to tell you what I did.”

Craig is moving around the kitchen, setting up plates for the lunch crowd. Mondays are typically slow, but we still have a decent lunch crowd. Salina swings in with a fresh order she pins to Thomas’s line.

“Tell me.” Craig stops and puts a hand on his hip.

I put my burger on the plate. “I went to the American Ballet Company and requested an audition for Mia.” Then I grab his arm and shake it back and forth with a squeal.

“You think that will work?” He’s less enthusiastic.

“I find your lack of faith disturbing. I name-dropped Ms Westwood and everything.”

“Ms Westwood is dead. Anybody could walk in and say they knew her.”

“Why would anybody walk in off the street and say they knew her? No one would even think of her unless they were down here with us.”

“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands. “You’re a genius, and Mia is lucky to have you.”

“I’ve got to get to school.” I take a last bite of hamburger. “Thank you, Thomas!”

He gives me a wave, and I skip out the back door of the kitchen, heading to the house to put on my leotard and tights.

It’s so much warmer here than in New York. As soon as I got home, I dropped my suitcase in the guest room and changed out of my warm clothes. Then I ran down to the restaurant.

“Hello, Miss?”

“Oh!” I squeal, jumping to the side.

“Sorry!” A youngish guy with blond hair and brown eyes holds up his hands. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m just visiting. That’s some name.”

He nods at the sign, giving me a sly smile, and my shoulders drop. He looks harmless enough, dressed in starched jeans and a long-sleeve button-up shirt. Who starches their jeans?

“Welcome to Newhope.” I wipe my hand on the back of my denim shorts before reaching out to shake his hand. “A cooter is another name for a turtle. I’m Dylan Bradford.”

“Callum Cross.” He shakes my hand, and that stops me.

I tilt my head to the side. “Have we met? Your name is familiar to me…”

He briefly seems startled, but he covers it fast, which is weird. “I don’t think so. I’m not from around here. I, ah… I heard this place has spicy food?”

“Yeah, we have a spicy special every Thursday night at seven.” I do a little wave. “You could come back then or stop in now. The regular menu is pretty delicious, if a bit tamer.”

He glances down, seeming embarrassed. “I heard they also do Coyote Ugly dancing?”

I hesitate, wondering what he’s after. “Also only on Thursdays.”

“Do you dance?”

“No, it’s just something the staff started doing for fun.”

“Too bad.”

Is he trying to flirt with me? Sorry, Callum. I am so taken, it almost makes me smile.

“Well, I’m late for work. Maybe I’ll see you around.”

“You will.”

I take off for the house. I’ve got less than an hour to be at school for ballet class.

The rest of my day goes like the last six weeks—teaching, working with Mia. I do not tell her about what I did in New York. I don’t want her to be nervous or distracted or intimidated the way I would’ve been at her age.

Then after school, I ride my bike home, change into my cutoffs and flip flops again before heading to the restaurant to work. It’s Monday night, which means I’ll be hiding from the game in a few hours.

“Garrett said y’all had a good visit.” Jack hugs me when he arrives with Kimmie Joy holding his hand.

She runs forward, wrapping her arms around my waist and hugging me like I’ve been gone a year. “Uncle Craig made stuffed jalapeños, and it still burned my tongue.”

I squat, making a pout. “Let me see.” She sticks out her little tongue, and I lean in close, pretending to examine it. “I don’t see a blister. I think it’s going to be okay.”

“He said I must’ve got a seed. Then he gave me ice cream.”

I hug her, kissing her soft cheek. “Uncle Craig probably thought you were a jalapeño expert since you already bit one.”

“I’m not.” Her eyes are huge.

Zane walks up behind Jack, and I stand to give him a hug. “Did you do okay by yourself this weekend?”

“The house was so quiet. I actually got some sleep.”

He’s teasing, but I pinch his side. “I moved downstairs so I wouldn’t disturb you.”

“We need better soundproofing on those old walls.”

Craig joins us, placing a platter of beers on the table and a root beer float for Kimmie. “Who are we supposed to cheer for tonight?”

I cringe, clutching the sides of my hair. “I can’t believe we have to watch all three of them play.” My brother Hendrix is a tight end for the Los Angeles Tigers. “The only good part is they’re all on offense, so they won’t face each other.”

“Where’s Allie?” Craig walks over to lean on the bar beside me.

“Austin has an exam tomorrow, so she’s home with him. Hey, did a little guy stop in here today?”

He shakes his head. “Why?”

“I ran into this man asking about spicy food and Coyote Ugly dancing.”

“You’re infamous.” Zane taps my shoulder. “Which means more than famous.”

“Not me.” I hold up my hands. “You know I don’t get on the bar.”

“You got on the bar when Logan was here.” Craig gives me the side-eye, and heat flushes my belly at the memory.

Yes, I did…

Jack steps up to take a beer and Kimmie’s dessert drink. She’ll be asleep before halftime, but we have a little palette made up for her in one of the booths. I’d hold her, but I have to take my place behind the column in the center of the dining room, a safe distance from the large screens.

The Monday Night Football music blasts through the room, and my heart jumps in my chest. Colorful lights flash on the screen, and the commentators excitedly launch into where things stand mid-way through the season.

Logan’s face appears on the screen, and my chest squeezes. Then Hendrix’s face is right beside him on a split screen.

They talk about their stats in excited voices and who’s in the running for the Big Game, and I rest my cheek against my old friend the column.

Last week, I pulled a chair over here, and Craig brought me beer and snacks while I did my best to tune out the clashing of helmets and the loud grunts of the players. Oh, and don’t forget the nonstop instant replays.

“He’s such a showboat,” Jack shakes his head at a clip of Hendrix dancing in the end zone after a score. “They should make him be a team captain for a year, show some responsibility.”

“You can’t force a square peg into a round hole,” Zane replies calmly.

I think about the two of them, the oldest of our clan, and how they sit and talk like I imagine our parents might. Jack is the grumpy oldest, while Zane is more patient.

Garrett was the youngest for so long, his over-the-top personality is cemented. Then Hendrix arrived, followed eighteen months later by me.

“Dylan, I know you’re cheering for Logan,” Jack notes. “Zane will cheer for Garrett, and I’ll root for Hendrix.”

He acts grumpy, but Jack was always sweet to us younger ones. It’s just like I told Allie—he’s hard on the outside, but a total alpha-roll in the middle.

“Hello?” Craig pipes up. “Way to leave out Thomas and me.”

“Nobody tells Thomas what to do.” Zane chuckles, taking a sip of beer.

“Craig can help Zane with Garrett. He’s big; he needs more support. Dylan’s in love enough to cover Logan.”

“Yes.” Zane nods. “I can vouch for that.”

“I want to cheer for Uncle Grizzly, too!” Kimmie walks up to her dad, climbing into his lap and rubbing her eyes.

“KJ, come sit with me.” I hold out my hand to her. “You can help me cheer for Lightning McQueen, so he doesn’t feel lonely.”

She hops off Jack’s lap and crawls into mine. Once she’s asleep, I’ll put her on her little makeshift bed. Then I can duck and squirm without disturbing her.

“Is the restaurant open?” A tenor voice draws my attention, and I sit straighter as the man from earlier walks through the door.

“Callum, Hi. I was just talking about you.” I flash my eyes at Craig, who is on his feet at once.

“Hi, there. I’m Craig.” My bestie holds out his hand. “I heard you were looking for some spicy food?”

“Yeah… what’s going on here?” He surveys the room. “Watching the game?”

“Ah, yeah.” I stand, shifting Kimmie to my hip. She lets out a little grunting noise, burying her face in my neck. “You’re welcome to watch with us if you want. Both of my brothers are in this game. Craig can bring you a menu if you’d like to order some food? Or have a beer?”

He smiles, and I can’t shake the feeling he’s making mental notes of everything. It’s peculiar, but not necessarily bad. Maybe he just wants to remember the place?

“Are those your brothers?” He nods at Jack and Zane, who are watching the opening discussion and ignoring us.

“Yeah, that’s Jack and Zane Bradford.”

“Jack Bradford?” Callum’s eyebrows rise. “Shit… Oh, sorry.”

Kimmie lets out a little-girl snore, and I exhale a laugh. “Looks like you’re safe.”

“Are you hungry?” I glance towards the open kitchen door. “Thomas is watching the game, but he could fry up a burger for you real quick.”

“Best burger on the coast,” Craig adds.

“Is Thomas related to you?” He steps over, craning his neck so he can look through the doorway.

“He might as well be,” I exhale a laugh, walking over to the blankets we arranged in the booth and placing my niece on them gently. “He’s been with us since we were kids.”

“I see…” Again, Callum appears to be making mental notes. “Sure. I’ll have a burger.”

“Got it.” Craig heads for the kitchen. “Anybody else need a drink or anything?”

“I’ll take another beer if you’re getting them,” Jack calls.

Zane holds up a hand, but I shake my head. I have to work tomorrow, and I plan to be awake to talk to Logan tonight. My battery recharge is wearing down, and I’ve been thinking about him all day.

The game starts, and it’s just like before. My brothers shout and cheer. They complain loudly when a ref gets it wrong, and they’re on their feet at every close play, which is pretty much all four hours.

I hide behind the column, peeking out and hiding again any time one of my brothers or the man I love gets pummeled or nearly pummeled.

My stomach is in knots, and my feet are in my chair so I can hide my face in my hands.

Callum walks over towards the end of the game. “I can’t tell if you’re enjoying this or not.”

My hands are over my ears, and my eyes are pressed against the top of my knees.

“Oh.” I exhale a laugh, casually uncurling from my stress-clench. “It’s great. They’re all such talented athletes.”

I’m pretty sure he’s not buying it for a second. It doesn’t matter, because right then Zane and Craig break into a loud cheer and start high fiving. I realize I missed something big, so I peek around the column to see the instant replay.

Garrett took out a cornerback making a beeline for Logan, and my gorgeous man jumped as gracefully as a gazelle, cupping the ball against his chest and falling into the end zone for the winning score.

The stadium is bananas. The Pirates are on a winning streak with zero losses so far in the season, and Logan has just logged the best numbers of his career.

Confetti rains down on the field. Garrett lifts Logan off his feet, running with him in his arms to the mob of players jogging to meet them. Logan’s helmet is off, and his smile is so big it makes me smile.

Then right there in the middle of it all, he holds up his hand, thumb and forefinger crossed, and I huff a laugh as tears spill onto my cheeks.