Dating the Defensive Back (The Nash Brothers Book 1)

I hated watching her pack her shit and move out of my house, but her brother arrives in town today, and we’re trying to play it cool in front of him.

She asked me the one time if I’m ready to tell him, and I shrugged. I played it off.

The truth is that I probably should tell him, but I’m just not ready to. It’s easy to ignore the reality of the situation when he’s all the way on the other side of the country. It’s a little harder when he’s staying with me.

And so I’ll tell him when I’m ready to put a ring on her finger, and likely not a moment sooner.

She’s back at her place, which sucks. She makes this house feel like a home, and for the next four days, I’m going to have to sleep without her in my arms.

Unless I can sneak her in. Maybe I can sneak her in…

I have one last day of mandatory minicamp, and our position coaches put us through the fucking ringer yesterday, so I’m having a hard time mustering up the right words to tell her how much I miss her already.

She doesn’t know Grayson in season, and sometimes the pain gets to me. It’s a harsh reality that she might not be expecting, but as the season gets underway, it’s not like it gets easier for me to get out on that field every week.

So why do I continue to play if that’s how I feel?

Because I fucking love the game. It’s the best game in the world, and it’s been my life’s honor to be a competitor in it. Maybe this will be my last year, and I’m giving it my all just in case it is. I’m leaving every last bit of myself out on that field, practice or not.

And it’s not just that.

I’m not ready to give it up because I don’t have a plan. I don’t know what comes next.

We have a max of twenty-four practice hours for the week, so today will be lighter than the first two days were. But I’m sore as fuck after those first two days as I prove I’m the cornerback the Aces need.

It’s going to be a long season, and so far, Ava has been nothing short of incredible as she caresses me with her light touch, feathers kisses along my skin, and works the knots out of my back and shoulders.

It’s like she knows exactly what to do, and having her here when I get home after a hard day of practice is somehow the exact medicine I need.

I haven’t told her that yet. I should, but time seems to have slipped away from me before I could form the words, and now I’m on my way to the Complex and she’s on her way to the bakery, and her brother gets here in a few hours.

I gave him the code to get into my house. I didn’t know what else to do. Having Ava there felt too personal, like he’d be able to read into it and see what’s going on.

I’m not sure how I’m supposed to take her to the charity ball this weekend and act like I haven’t fallen head over ass for her.

The day drags, especially when it comes to the position meetings toward the end, and I’m itching to get home to see my guests—and my guest’s sister. I’m not sure if she headed over there after work to see her family or not, but I’m interested to see her interact with her brother after all this time. And, of course, after I’ve gotten to know her the way I have.

I think after all these years, I might actually be closer to Ava than I am to Beckett.

He’s still my best friend. We have a history together. But he’s also the kind of friend who will be there in a month or a year. We don’t have to talk every day to know our friendship remains strong and healthy.

Ava, on the other hand…I don’t want to miss a day with her. I don’t want to wait a month or a year to talk to her. Hell, I don’t even want to wait an hour to talk to her.

I know that’s not feasible, but I like her. I like spending time with her. I like laughing with her. I like fucking her.

I like my life with her in it.

It’s a strong realization to have as I head home to meet her brother and his family as we continue this sham that’s purely for his benefit.

Her little red Versa isn’t there in my garage where it has nestled in its own space for the last month. Instead, a rental luxury sedan sits in my driveway.

That means her brother is here, and she is not.

I text her when I pull into the garage before I head into the house.

Me: Home from practice. Your brother is here. Are you coming over?

I don’t wait for a reply. Instead, I head inside to greet my guests.

Beckett looks the same as the last time I saw him. He’s clean-shaven, and he’s neat as a pin, with not a hair out of place in his polo shirt and slacks. He greets me with a hug.

Rachel looks sophisticated even in her dark pants and white sweater, and she hugs me next as I realize how quiet the house is.

Beckett nods upstairs. “We put the girls to bed a little while ago. I hope that’s okay. It’s past their bedtime on the east coast.”

I nod. “Of course.” I head toward the kitchen. “What can I get you two?”

“Got any scotch?” Beckett asks.

“I do,” I say, and I fumble around on the top shelf of my pantry for the bottle. “Rach?”

“I’m fine with my water,” she says.

Water. Water? Rachel always has a glass of wine. It’s practically glued to her hand. I step back from the pantry and glance over at my guests, and Rachel gives Beckett a look.

One of those looks. Even I notice it, which means it must be glaringly obvious.

“Water?” I repeat, staring at the two of them. Eventually, Beckett’s eyes shift to me.

“Water,” he says quietly.

“Okay,” I say, and I pour two fingers of the scotch and grab a bottle of water from the fridge. I hand the drinks to my guests and grab my gin before I sit in the recliner across from where they sit on the couch. “So, what’s new?”

“Just tell him,” Rachel mutters.

Beckett’s face lights up. “We’re having another baby.”

“Holy shit, man,” I say, rising to my feet to shake his hand. Rachel stands, and I hug her. “Congratulations. You feeling good, Rach?”

“No. I feel like shit. I’m always nauseous and cranky, and I very nearly canceled this trip because I didn’t want to travel, but Beck insisted we come. And it’s early, early days, so please don’t say anything to anyone yet. We’re only eight weeks in.”

Don’t say anything to anyone. So…they want me to keep this a secret from Ava, Beckett’s sister. And we’re keeping our own secret from Beckett, and I get a really, really bad feeling about all the secrets bouncing around this house.

“You finally getting your boy?” I ask Beckett.

He chuckles. “Praying for healthy, and we’ll take whatever we get.” It’s the standard answer parents must be trained to give when they’re pregnant, but I also know that Rachel has had two miscarriages, and I’m sure that’s a lot of where his answer stems from.

They tell me the girls don’t even know yet, so I promise to be careful about not spilling the secret.

And it pulses something else in me. I don’t want to overshadow their news with our news. I don’t want to admit to what we’re doing when Beckett is already worried about his wife and the baby she’s growing. I don’t want him worrying about his sister, or me, or our friendship on top of what he’s already dealing with.

The doorbell rings a short while later, and when I open it, I find Ava standing there.

A huge bag is slung over her shoulder, and it takes everything inside me not to grab her into my arms. But I’m determined to be the friend Beckett needs me to be, and the time just isn’t right for a confession.

I take the bag from her as her eyes meet mine, and I think there might be a question there. But then Beckett walks up behind me to greet his sister, and the moment is gone.

I see in her eyes how much she hates keeping this secret, and now that Beckett has asked me to keep one from her, I’m a little nervous about how the next few days are going to play out.