Page 49 of Play the Last Card

Billy Booker is familiar.

I know the name. I know who she’s talking about. A framed picture of his Super Bowl winning team hangs in the corridor at the training facility.

“Billy Booker is your pops?” I’m not sure why I need the clarification but my brain can’t seem to string more than that sentence together.

“My dad was a D1 athlete too. He died before the draft happened but it was rumored he would’ve been picked up by the Broncos too. It’s why I don’t like watching football. It … it just hurts watching and knowing he missed out. And, that I missed out on him.”

“Matty Booker is your dad?” I ask. A faint memory of my parents taking me to a college ball game in LA when I was younger hits me. I saw him play. I saw her dad play.

“I … wow. Okay.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I should’ve told you. Now the press knows about Pops and that he’s in surgery. They’ll be turning up at the hospital within the hour to cover the story. Uncle Jeff said he’s going to try and call someone to clear them but it’s only going to get worse before it gets better. My family’s story is going to be everywhere. Anytime something happens with Pops they bring it all up again and I have to avoid the TV for weeks.” She twists her fingers into my hoodie’s fabric as she rambles.

My lungs feel like they fill with lead and I suck in a breath that hardly helps. Shit. She feels bad and my lie is way worse.

I know that I should probably use this time to tell her who I am. We’re talking about football for the first time since that time in the alley at the bar. I could just … tell her. Easy.

But the way she stares down at me, tears once again threatening to spill over, stops me.

Soon.

Not yet.

“Hey.” I stand up, taking her face between my hands and thumbing her cheek to wipe away the fresh tears. “You have nothing to be sorry about. The paps don’t scare me. The fact you’re Boston football royalty doesn’t scare me.”

She nods. “Okay.”

“Jeff is Jeff Brady, right?” I ask, wanting to confirm my suspicion that Coach is the one she was talking to. She cocks her head, eyes burning with the question of how I know that. I shrug. “I work for the team. I know who Jeff is.”

“Right,” she whispers. She lifts a hand to wipe at her cheeks but I beat her to it, smoothing the skin under a gentle caress of my thumb. Even when glistening with tears, her skin is smooth and soft.

My dick twitches in my pants. Fucking hell. Obviously my brain forgot to send the message that now is not the time.

I sigh, dropping my forehead to hers and closing my eyes. She takes a few deep breaths. I trace my fingers gently from her cheeks down her neck, over the curve of her shoulder and down her arms. I can’t help but notice the way my fingers sink into her soft waist. It’s automatic for my hands to land here. I love the feel of her under my touch.

All of me loves it, it seems.

In my head, I start listing my teammates and their positions as I tell her, “It’s going to be okay. He’ll be fine.”

“I hate when they bring it all up again,” she tells me quietly. “They camp outside the house hounding me for quotes about Pop’s and my dad, and they even want comments on the current team. Like I give a rat’s ass about a bunch of players I don’t even know.”

My body convulses, a small shake ripping through me as I choke on a laugh. Even with the tears on her face freshly dried and the shivers of her body only just subsiding from her grief, she’s fiery. Determined.

I like her more than I should for someone I’ve only known for a few weeks.

“What about Jeff?” I ask before I can stop myself. I have to know how she’s related to him. I don’t know all that much about Coach’s family life, haven’t really found myself caring all that much about football so far this season thanks to the bombshell currently in my arms, so all I know is that he’s married with some kids.

He could be her real uncle.

Fuck, was I dating Coach’s niece?

Shit.

“—my dad’s old coach from college. Practically family.” She finishes, pulling away from me. She barely takes a step away from grasp before I reel her back in.

“Huh?”

She cocks her head, lifting an eyebrow. “You asked a question and then didn’t even listen to the answer.”