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

The restaurant isn’t nearly as crowded as usual, which Dylan explains is normal for a football night. Still, a decent-sized group is here, sitting at tables facing the large TVs over the bar.

“The crowd has actually grown since that TMI article. Before that it was just the guys and Allie and me and one or two other people.”

She told me about that, and I really love the way this little village comes together to take care of its own.

When I enter on crutches, they all stand and clap for me, which hits me unexpectedly hard.

An older fellow gently pats my shoulder. “That was the worst thing I’ve seen since Zane’s injury, and his wasn’t intentional.”

His words poke at the anger still simmering in my chest about what happened. I’ll have to train my ass off once I’m back on my feet, and at my age, it’s not a prospect I relish. Then, even with all the training, there’s no guarantee I’ll ever see the stats I was racking up this season.

“Thank you.” Is the best I can manage.

I make my way to the table where Jack and Zane have a front-row seat to the enormous, center flatscreen behind the bar.

Salina moves through the room taking care of the customers, and I look for Dylan. I find her wearing my jersey, but she’s sitting in a chair behind a column several feet away in the middle of the restaurant.

Allie sits beside her, but she’s not hidden.

I turn and crutch over to them. “What are you two doing back here?”

Dylan hops up and carefully holds my shoulders to give me a kiss on the cheek. “You sit up there with Jack and Zane. I do better watching from back here.”

My brow furrows, and I glance at Allie, who shrugs. “She does it every week.”

“Every week?” My eyebrows rise.

“Sometimes she goes to the kitchen to watch with Thomas.”

“Why does Thomas watch in the kitchen?” I take a step back, glancing through the open door.

Sure enough, Thomas is on a stool in front of the metal table with his arms crossed. A small, black-and-white TV with rabbit ears is in front of him.

“He’s superstitious,” Dylan explains. “But sometimes it’s easier to watch on the small screen than up there, where it’s all… in your face.”

Leaning one of my crutches against the column, I hop over and grab a chair from an empty table, putting it beside my girl. “I’ll sit right here with you.”

Allie smiles warmly and hops up. “I’ll grab us all a beer.”

She disappears, and I reach over to cover Dylan’s twisting fingers with my hand. The leather bracelet is on her wrist, and her eyes are in her lap.

“You did this for me every week?”

Lifting her pretty, pretty eyes to mine, she blinks a few times. “It was important to you, and I want to support you.”

I can’t find a way to say how much it both aches and warms me to know she was here, doing her best for me. At the same time, I file it away along with all the other things going through my mind these days as I contemplate our future.

“All this time it was horses?” A week has passed, and I’m standing on the edge of an arena connected to a large horse farm south of Newhope, watching Zane lead a gorgeous thoroughbred through its exercises. “But why keep it a secret? Jack and Dylan would be relieved to know you’re doing something so… positive.”

I know my beautiful girl has been worried about her broody older brother since he came home and started disappearing every day. It’s part of what prompted her to suggest he help Miss Gina.

He shakes his head looking down. “To be honest, I hadn’t planned to keep doing it, but after a while, I couldn’t seem to let go.”

I lean on my crutches behind the rail as I watch him slide his hand over the brown neck of the purebred animal. “They’re beautiful.”

He nods, scrubbing his fingers under the horse’s mane. “They come here because they’re useless once they’re injured. Just like… people.”

I’m not sure if he was going to say just like us or just like me. Either option is pretty dark, so I let it pass.

“What do you do?”

“Exercise them, brush and feed them. I help out when the therapy kids come here, holding them and guiding the volunteers. I was surprised by how well the kids respond to them.”

“Like troubled kids?”

“A few, but more like injured and neurodivergent kids. The horses are very calm, almost like they can sense the person’s needs. You might try it.”

“Sounds pretty woo-woo to me,” I tease, but he stiffens.

“It’s not.” His reply is curt. “Equine therapy is well-documented in clinical research.”

Clearing my throat, I straighten on my uninjured knee. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply it wasn’t.”

I’m only just getting to know Zane, and I want to continue building the bridge. He and I are in a similar boat—only my career isn’t over like his.

“We’d better get going. Miss Gina has some new problem for me.”

I exhale a laugh. “I think she likes having you around.”

“I know she does.”

He leads the tall horse back to its stall, and I start the trek to his Jeep. I do my best to keep pace with him, but it takes me longer to do just about everything with these crutches. I’m trying not to be pissed as hell about it.

It’s worse knowing it was an intentional foul, but I got a slight reprieve when I found out Peter Krall was suspended from the league pending further review.

It’s not complete retribution, but it’s close. They said if my injury had been career-ending, it would’ve been worse for him.

As it is, I’m healing fast. The physical therapist said I’ll be off the damn crutches in a few more days, but I still have to wear a brace—and figure out what comes next.

Zane drives us north along the scenic road, headed to the old lady’s mansion on the bluffs. It’s a cool day, but we have the top and doors off the vehicle. I’m not sure, but I bet it’s to curtail the need for conversation.

Dylan’s brother isn’t much of a talker, which is fine by me.

I look through the live oak trees mixed with magnolias at the sparkling water of the bay. It’s cool, and the briny scent of saltwater is in the air. A lone sailboat drifts past, and it’s restorative, peaceful.

In addition to being with Dylan, being here helps to loosen the fist of anger in my chest, about a lot of things.

Traveling along the old scenic highway, I notice a small cinder-block building with a low roof and a giant satellite dish in the backyard. It’s painted white, and it looks like it’s been here for a century.

“What’s that?” I shout over the wind, nodding at the building.

Zane glances, then leans to the center to answer. “The old AM station. Been around for years.”

“Does it still broadcast?”

“Some.” He shifts in his seat. “It’s mostly for storm warnings, local stuff like that.”

Nodding, I think about this as we continue our journey.

“Won’t all the ladies be jealous?” Miss Gina’s high voice wobbles with laughter. “Now I’ve got two handsome football stars working for me. I really must be a long-lost princess.”

“Now you’re just feeding the rumors,” I tease, moving slowly on my crutches with her hand on my arm. “How do you know I don’t have cross-eyes and a pot belly?”

I tease her every time she compliments me, because she’s blind.

It only makes her laugh more, which to be honest, is kind of nice. Her whole face lights up when she smiles.

We pause at the French doors leading out to her patio, and I open one, doing my best to hold it for her while allowing her room to pass.

She hesitates then walks through the opening. I hop out and close the door behind me as she waits to put her small hand on my arm again.

“You have a refined air about you, Logan Murphy. What in the world got you interested in football?”

Her question prickles my skin. “I get that question a lot.”

“By someone you don’t like.” Her chin lifts. “A family member?”

I swear, the entire village has it all wrong. Miss Gina is a psychic. “By my father mostly.”

“Ah,” she nods. “Fathers and sons often have difficult relationships.”

“Or none at all.”

“Is he still alive?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I can’t keep the annoyance out of my tone, but she squeezes my arm.

“Then there’s hope.”

She’s a kind old lady, and I don’t want to argue with her, so I don’t.

“At least I was able to impress him this year, even if I didn’t finish the way I’d planned.”

“I’m an old woman,” Miss Gina nods her head slowly. “One constant I’ve learned is no matter what, life always changes. The best way through is to accept the fact, and move to the next great thing.”

“How do I know it’ll be great?”

She gives me a wink. “It always is.”

We’re slowly making our way to where Zane is on a ladder beside a large glass and wrought-iron structure filled with a variety of plants.

“The heating duct on my greenhouse failed.” She puts a hand on her chest. “It’s a good thing Rachel was using it for her hot yoga or I’d have lost all my orchids!”

“Rachel?” My brow furrows.

“My new nurse. She was supposed to be here in August, but she had some problems getting out of Birmingham. She started a few weeks ago—Zane has met her…”

“Are you talking about me?” A young woman walks around the building to where we stand.

She’s dressed in leggings and a long-sleeved, oversized sweatshirt. Her blonde hair is up in a ponytail, and she has bright green eyes.

“Rachel, this is Logan Murphy. He’s Dylan’s gentleman friend.”

My brow quirks, and Rachel snorts a laugh. “I don’t think anyone says gentleman friend anymore, Miss G… Just say he’s her boyfriend.”

“It’s so undignified.” Miss Gina frowns. “Logan isn’t a boy, and he’s more than her friend.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Logan.” Rachel steps forward to shake my hand. “That was a pretty gnarly injury you got there. I was watching when it happened. We all said a prayer for you.”

“Thanks.” It’s another prickly topic.

“He doesn’t want to talk about his injury.” Zane climbs down the ladder, wiping his hands with a towel.

He cuts a look at Rachel, and her eyes narrow. “I can still be empathetic.”

“No one likes being pitied.”

“That’s not what I meant!” She crosses her arms, glaring daggers at him as he continues into the greenhouse.

Miss Gina stands beside me with her hand on my arm and a preening smile on her face.

She leans closer to me, stage-whispering, “They’re always bickering like two banty chickens.”

“I think you mean bantam,” Rachel corrects her. “And I don’t bicker. He’s just an old grump.”

Chewing my lip, I don’t laugh at her statement of fact.

Zane returns, closing the greenhouse door behind him. “That should do it.”

“I’ll check on your flowers.” Rachel flicks her ponytail at him as she passes, and I notice his eyes flicker to her ass.

He quickly returns his attention to the old lady. “We’re taking off, unless you need something else?”

“I think that’s enough for today.” Miss Gina releases my arm. “You’ll be back next week, Zane?”

“Yes, ma’am.” I wait as he collects his tools.

Satisfied, the old lady enters the greenhouse, and I turn on my crutches to follow him out to the Jeep. He’s not saying anything, but I figure it can’t hurt to poke the bear. Or in his case the broody panther.

“That Rachel’s a cute girl.”

“She’s a nosy pain in the ass.” He drops his tools in the back of the Jeep before climbing in with a little more energy than when we got here. “We were fine until she showed up. Now it’s nonstop suggestions.”

“She seemed sweet to me.”

“Well, looks can be deceiving.” He turns the key, and I’ve just settled in my seat when he roughly jams it into gear and takes off down the road at a rapid clip.

If I didn’t know better, I’d think he didn’t want to talk about it anymore, which makes me chuckle. The wind whips around our heads, and I think about the old lady and her mischievous expression as she observed them.

“Miss Gina’s something. Sometimes I think she’s tricking us all, and she can really see.”

“She sees things.” Zane doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “Just not like you and me. Probably because she’s blind.”

I’ve learned my lesson about suggesting he’s being woo-woo, so all I say is, “Maybe.”

We arrive at the house at the same time as Dylan rides up on her bike, and seeing her in a leotard and tights with a little ballet skirt around her waist tightens my stomach.

She’s been through so much, and she still keeps going. Hell, she was there when I got injured, even after all she told me, and she stayed by my side.

I think about what Miss Gina said about change and not being able to control where your life takes you—and moving on to the next great thing.

Her eyes light when she sees us, and she skips down to where I’m standing beside the Jeep. When she reaches me, I lift her off her feet in a hug, bracing myself with my crutch.

It makes her laugh, and she wraps her legs around my waist, kissing me slowly. I’m not going to lie, it makes my dick twitch.

“How was your day?” I love the sound of her voice.

“It just got a whole lot better.”

She wriggles, and I lower her to her feet. I take out my other crutch, she walks with me slowly to the house.

“What did you do today?”

“We stopped by Miss Gina’s so your brother could fix her greenhouse, and I met Rachel.”

“Oh, I love Rachel! I want to start doing yoga with her on the weekends.”

“She seems nice. Your brother does not agree.”

“I have no feelings either way.” Zane’s tone is flat as he passes us on his way to the house.

Dylan’s eyes cut up to mine, and my eyebrows rise. I’m pretty sure we’re thinking the same thing. Sparks.

“Well, I’ve got to get changed and get to the restaurant.” She rises on her toes to kiss me once more.

“See you there.”

She squeezes her brother’s arm as she passes him. Zane puts his bag behind the coat rack, but frustration twists my stomach as I watch her disappear upstairs.

“I don’t like the way certain people talk about Dylan.”

“None of us do.” He glances in the direction his sister went. “Jack’s wife dealt with the same thing. The only difference was, she deserved it—not that you heard it from me.”

“Dylan doesn’t deserve it, and she’s been through enough.”

“It’s best to ignore it. Otherwise, it gets worse. Then it gets ugly.”

“I don’t know.” My mind is working. “I’m not good at ignoring things.”

And I’m even worse at seeing my girl treated badly. I’m making a call.