Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96712 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Jet continues to glare at me, waiting for me to defend myself. Newsflash, kid. I’m not that type of guy.
“If you’re going to be an ass, can you at least help me serve breakfast?” he asks.
“Sure.”
When Matt comes back, he doesn’t even acknowledge what was said ten minutes ago. Kissing my cheek, he grabs the plate in my hands. “This mine?”
“No, yours is here.” Jet turns to Matt with a huge plate full of omelet. The colorless, egg-white kind. Eww.
Matt’s face lights up over it. “Thanks for breakfast, JJ.”
Jet scowls.
“Okay, you have to tell me why you refuse to call your brother Jet,” I say.
“It’s a stupid name,” Matt mumbles.
“You’re a stupid name,” Jet says.
“So glad we can have a grownup conversation, guys,” I say.
Matt takes his seat at the dining table. “You know what my full name is?”
“Matthew?” I say.
Jet laughs. “Nope. His full name is Matt.”
“Jethro was given the privilege of a full name and he refuses to use it. Pisses me off.”
“Aww, you want me to call you Matthew?” I ask. “Because I’ll do it.”
“And that doesn’t explain JJ,” Jet says.
“Oh, that’s because I’m a dick,” Matt says and turns to me. “When he was six, he told everyone he wants to go by JJ. It caught on at school, but then …” He pauses and then his face drops. “I didn’t think. I remember you loving the name and then hating it, but it just occurred to me what made you stop liking it.”
“What was it?” I ask.
“Dad said it sounded like a drag name,” Jet says quietly. “Ain’t no son of his gonna be a f—”
“I get the picture,” I say. “And, Matthew, you are a dick.”
“I’ll stop,” Matt says.
“Hallelujah,” Jet says. “Although, that totally gives me an idea to do drag for Halloween and send our parents an update. And, you know what? Fuck it. I’m taking the name back and owning it. Dad can’t do anything about it from where he is.”
“Sounds like an idea,” Matt says. “Give the parentals a heart attack, and then you can look after the kids while I play for Chicago.”
Jet and I share a glance.
“You’re going to do it?” I ask Matt.
“Damon called today. The GM wants to fly me out there. They’re serious about wanting me, and I figure I should at least go meet with him.”
“When do you leave?” I ask.
“Next week. It’ll just be a day thing. Fly out in the morning and come back that night.”
I force a smile and fake my way through a lie. “That’s great news. Good luck.”
Suddenly, my appetite is gone, even though Jet’s food tastes amazing. The eggs are perfectly cooked, the bacon nice and crispy, but I have to force myself to eat it. It sits in my stomach like lead.
This is what was going to happen all along, so I don’t know why it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. Am I angry because I want him to stay or am I angry at myself for allowing me to get to this point?
I don’t want him to leave.
Chapter Seventeen
Matt
The last person I expect to pick me up from the airport is Marcus Talon himself—the new star quarterback for the Warriors.
He’s a bit shorter than I am, with pretty-boy blond hair and a killer smile that’s aimed at me in the arrivals section.
“Hey, man.” He does the whole man-hug thing with our hands clasped between us and a shoulder bump.
“Uh, hi … Marcus.” It’s not as if I’m expecting him to not know who I am, but I’ve met this guy maybe once. Our old teams had faced each other numerous times, but with both of us being on the offensive line, we’ve never gone head to head.
“Call me Talon. Everyone else does. Did you have a good flight?” he asks.
“Fine. Quick, which is good.”
“My car’s out front.”
And yes, it is. With people crowding around it. Some being paparazzi.
I freeze in my steps. “How did they know I was here?”
Talon laughs. “Someone has a big head. Sorry to burst your bubble, but they’re here for me. You’re not in your town anymore. I own this place.”
“Speaking of big heads, already taking over and the season hasn’t started, huh?”
Talon claps my back, and sure enough, as we head into the fold, Talon’s name is called out to the point the two syllables don’t even make sense to me anymore. But it doesn’t take them long to realize who I am and what that means. Questions of contracts are thrown at me, but I ignore them and push forward to Talon’s bright red Ferrari.
Seeing as I’m only here for the day, I don’t have a bag, and it’s an easy escape into his car and out of the drop-off lane.
It’s the first time I’ve been around anyone who belongs to my old world, so it’s awkward to say the least. And then I go and make it worse by saying something stupid.