CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

RILEY

Everything frustrates me these days, and only some of it is preventable frustration. Lately, it’s self-induced frustration. I’m annoying myself with my ambivalence and indecisiveness when it comes to all things Walker.

I still feel like a royal bitch for the way I treated him a few weeks ago, and his short, sharp responses to my texts tell me he’s not over it. The biting tone is out of character for him. It’s what I expect from Kendall. Maybe even Jackson, but he’d be over it in a few hours, or at least calling me out on my behavior.

My empathetic side sees things from Walker’s perspective. He’s never had a sense of belonging. Even now, starting a relationship with his brother, he’s second place to Taylor and even to me. No one has truly been there for him. Ever.

I hit mile three on the elliptical when the news turns over to the sports desk. After three losing seasons, the Revolutions have been the buzz all summer long, thanks to Walker Bankes, one of the NFL’s top running backs.

They show coverage of the first open practice and friends and family day. There’s coverage of most of the team playing pass in the stadium with their kids, their spouses, their loved ones.

Noticeably absent from the coverage is Walker. My heart breaks for him. I doubt he’s ever had family attend his games. Jackson admitted to never attending any, not even when Walker was young.

The sports reporter on the field speaks to the camera. “This weekend’s preseason game will be the first test to see if coach Hayes and his new team have what it takes to have a winning season. Live from Revolution Stadium, I’m Molly Turner.”

I pump my arms and legs faster as an idea forms. I balance myself with one hand on the machine and call Jackson with my free hand.

“You busy?” I pant.

“Never too busy for phone sex. What’s with the huffing and puffing?”

“I’m on the elliptical. What are you doing on Sunday afternoon?”

“Going through reports, most likely. You have a better offer?”

“I do. How do you feel about going to a football game?”

“ W hen I invited you to come with me to the game, I wasn’t expecting all of this.” I close the door to the limousine and toss my backpack on the floor next to Rowan’s feet.

Jackson called in the calvary. Rowan happened to have the day off, and when Taylor’s not working, he’s by his husband’s side. And Kendall would never pass on an opportunity to watch dozens of men run around in tight pants.

“The more the merrier. Besides, you made a good argument about Walker never having a family cheering section. So here we are.”

“The limo’s a nice touch.” Kendall pops the cap off a bottle of beer. “Everyone can cut loose and no worries on who’s driving home.”

“Sadly, I have an early morning so there'll be no cutting loose, but I appreciate not having to fight traffic after the game.” Taylor tosses his phone in the pocket of the door next to him and stretches his legs between Kendall and me.

I love the more easy-going Taylor. Inspired by how Jackson stood up to his father and his company, he did the same and came out to his partners at his firm. As he suspected, they snubbed him and started taking his high-profile cases away. But because he’s a good attorney, he hired an even better attorney and threatened to file a discrimination suit.

And then he quit to start his own firm.

“Thank you again for getting the tickets.” I hadn’t meant to freeload off Jackson, but as soon as I suggested it, he said he’d take care of the tickets. Times five, apparently. Oh, and a limo. The joys of rolling in money.

We’re all wearing navy and white, the team’s colors. Kendall is the only one who owns a jersey, and she’s proudly wearing number eighty-six. For one, Miles Buckingham, the tight end, is gorgeous. But mostly because his nickname is Buck, which rhymes with fuck. And she loves to say Fuck me Buck, loud and proud when we’re watching games at home or at a local sports bar. From what we’ve seen on social media and news clips, he’s a flirtatious goofball, which is right up her alley as well.

We arrive at the stadium an hour before the game and find our way through the crowds to the merchandise area.

Jackson picks his way through a rack of jerseys and starts tossing number thirty-threes at me. “If we’re here to support my brother, we need to look the part.”

“I’m supporting Buck,” Kendall says.

“Always a pain in the ass.” Jackson rolls his eyes and nudges her aside.

I glance down at the price tag of one jersey. Over a hundred bucks? And Jackson refused to let me chip in for the tickets. Not that he can’t afford it, but it was my suggestion to come support Walker, and Jackson has paid for everything.

I’m sure he sees it as his penance for not being the supportive big brother he wants to be now. That’s the only reason I don’t feel worse about accepting the generous gift. Once the four jerseys are paid for, we all pull them on over our T-shirts.

It’s a beautiful seventy-degree afternoon and not too hot under the thick material. Rowan, Kendall, and I loop our elbows together and follow Jackson and Taylor through the throngs of people.

Other than golf, Jackson has never been to a sporting event of any kind, but Taylor’s been to a few Celtics games. His firm has box seats, and he gets in a few games a season. When it comes to football, our male escorts are mostly numb.

We ladies understand the game, for the most part, but the scenery is something we can all appreciate.

It isn’t until we’re nearing the bottom of the steps that I see how close we are to the field and right behind the Revolutions’ bench. The seats must have cost Jackson a fortune. Nosebleed seats are out of my budget, I can’t imagine what five second row seats on the fifty-yard line set him back.

“Hot damn.” Rowan whistles and slowly spins around, taking in the view of the arena. “This place is freaking huge.” AC/DC blasts from the sound system, and there’s nothing but good vibes in the air.

“That’s what she said.” Kendall stares at the field where both teams are stretching and doing their individual warmups. “Look at those fucking asses. Is it wrong to want to take a bite out of them?”

My focus isn’t on the men stretching on the field. It’s on one man. Walker is in his element. Focused, determined, and serious. It’s as if no one else is on the field and there aren’t fifty thousand fans in the stands.

Most of the other players are focused as well, but there are plenty who are smiling, laughing, and goofing off while still getting their warmup in.

Walker holds his lunge and his quads and glutes flex under the tight uniform pants. God, how I miss those strong legs pressing me against a wall or pinning me on the couch. He lowers himself to the turf and reaches for his toes, then fluidly spins to a pigeon pose.

His legs are his number one asset on the field. He’s fast and agile, as I’ve seen from the countless hours of clips I’ve been watching at night before I go to sleep. The pictures of him all over the internet are impressive, but it’s watching him in action that has me in awe.

For a big man, he’s quick and agile on his feet. He reads the holes in the defense and plows right through as if the Red Sea is parting for him. There are dozens and dozens of clips of him running with two, sometimes three defenders hanging off him while he pushes for a few more yards.

His athleticism and humility are awe inspiring.

“Need a napkin for that drool of yours?” Rowan snickers in my ear.

I tear my attention away from Walker and make a show of slurping up my hypothetical drool.

“You sure you still want to keep things at friend status?” Kendall asks.

“Keep? We’re not even there yet.”

“Whose fault is that?” Jackson leans over and asks.

I reach around Kendall and push him away. “I’m trying. Your brother is being difficult. I can’t promise him anything more than friendship, but he won’t even talk to me.”

“Hm.” Jackson tips his chin.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He feigns innocence. “Nothing, my dear finicky friend. Absolutely nothing.”

“I’m not finicky.”

Rowan and Kendall snort and Jackson squinches his face as if I said something horrid.

“Hey. Leave me alone. I’m trying to figure out what I want.”

“His booty and constant booty calls or date nights with Mr. Big.”

“Ew. Don’t call her vibrator that.” Rowan scolds Kendall.

“You call your vibrator Mr. Big?” Jackson asks and winces his head back.

From the corner of my eye, I can see the four men sitting behind us lean closer to our conversation.

“Ignore them.” Rowan pats my hand. “Follow your heart, Riley. Forget what everyone else says.”

My heart says to leap over the railing and run out onto the field and pounce on Walker, planting my mouth on his and grabbing that delectable ass with my hands.

My head tells me not to. Not only because I’ll surely get arrested, but because that won’t bring him any closer to wanting a family. He wants to get laid. I do too. But I want to sleep with someone forever, not for the time being.

The players slowly come over to the sidelines, and the stands start to fill up with tailgaters who were enjoying their cheap beer in the parking lot. Taylor, who is sitting at the end of our row, stands.

“I’m going to grab some drinks. What would you guys like?”

Kendall and Jackson aren’t shy about spitting out their order while Rowan and I pass on the offer. We’re close enough that I can see Walker’s mouth move as he talks to his teammates, but I can’t hear him. A few minutes later, the team jogs off to the locker room.

Rowan, Kendall, and I pretend we’re at karaoke and sing along to Bon Jovi, Journey, and Tom Petty. By the time Taylor comes back with everyone’s drinks, including beers for Rowan and I, which we accept, the team is jumping around in their tunnel waiting to be announced.

Tennessee comes out first, hopping up and down on adrenaline, and then the Revolutions are announced. They come rushing out, led by Walker, Humphries, and their new quarterback, Declan Anderson.

The energy from the crowd is contagious, and the girls and I jump up and down and cheer with them while Jackson and Taylor play it cool. We win the coin toss and choose to defer to the second half, which means our defense is on the field and Walker will have a few minutes before going out.

He paces the sidelines, his concentration fixed on his team. When his players make good tackles, he lifts his hands and cheers. When they cause a fumble and we win possession, he jumps up in excitement and claps the defenders on the ass and helmet as they come off the field and he takes it.

I’m fixated on him. I don’t watch the center or the quarterback, unable to take my eyes off Walker. The first play is a pass, and he blocks the defense, protecting Anderson. The wide receiver drops the pass, and the next ball is overthrown.

There are negative chants coming from the stands behind us. We haven’t had a winning season in a few years with most of our players either new, recovering from injuries, or practically aging out.

“Give the ball to Bankes!” the guys yell from behind us.

It’s third and ten on the forty, with sixty yards to go. Anderson huts, the ball is hiked, and he hands it off to Walker. Walker fakes left, then cuts up the middle and past two defenders.

I jump to my feet, as does everyone else in the stadium, as he runs it thirty-nine yards. The stands erupt with cheers as everyone screams Walker’s name, and my face flushes with pride.

Jackson yells, “That’s my brother!” and gives Taylor a high five.

My heart bursts with pride for him. Two plays later, Miles Buckingham catches the ball in the corner of the endzone, and we’re up seven-zip after the extra point.

When he comes off the field and flips up his helmet on top of his head for a water break, Kendall and Jackson holler at him.

He looks up and sees Jackson first. The sweetest smile curves his mouth when he notices his brother. Then his eyes work down the line, seeing Kendall then me. He freezes, and for a moment I think he may be upset that I’m here. Then those lips stretch to his hairline and his eyes light up like a freaking Christmas tree.

“Oh my God, Riley. He’s beaming.” Rowan squeezes my arm.

It’s true. Those stormy eyes of his haven’t left mine, and I can practically feel the love radiating off him.

Wait. Love? No. Not love. That’s not a look of love. Of excitement that he has a fan club, yes.

Walker gets nudged by a teammate and one of the coaches and he says something to them without taking his eyes off me.

It’s not until Jackson yells again, “That’s my brother!” pointing at Walker, that Walker takes his eyes off me and tamps his helmet down again.

He looks up again and taps his chest before turning around and joining the others on the sideline to cheer on his team.

“Holy fuck,” Kendall says. “He just gave his heart to you.”

“He did not.” I don’t even fight the roll of my eyes.

“Did too. You made his fucking day by being here.”

“ We made his day. Did you see how excited he was to see Jackson?”

“Yeah. Totally excited. Then he got a hard on when he spotted you.”

“We can argue about this later. Let’s enjoy the game,” Rowan, ever the peacekeeper, says.

It’s an amazing game, and Walker lives up to his reputation. When the game is over, instead of rushing off the field, Walker comes over to the stands and hops up, holding himself up by the railing.

“Nice win, brother.” Jackson taps him on the shoulders.

“Thanks for coming. All of you.” Walker politely scans all five of us, saving me for last and keeping his eyes locked on mine.

“It was Riley’s idea,” Jackson said.

Walker’s sweaty brow lifts. “Yeah?” I shrug. “That jersey looks good on you.”

I bite my lip then open my mouth and stupid words come out. “Rowan looks good in it too. So do Jackson and Taylor. Jackson thinks he’s cool because the jersey has his name on it.”

The guys sitting behind us crowd our space and reach over my shoulder.

“Hey, man. Fucking sweet game. Can we get a picture?”

I glare at the drunk frat boys behind us, who obviously can’t read a room. I expect Walker to brush them off, but from what I’ve seen, he’s typically pleasant to his fans.

“Sure,” Walker says with only a smidgen of bite.

When I start to move aside, he grabs my forearm, keeping me close. The annoying men crowd in front of me and take their pictures. When they start to make small talk, Walker politely dismisses them.

“Sorry, guys. This is my family. Mind giving us some space?”

My family. Technically, only two-fifths of us are his family, his brother and brother-in-law, but they don’t need to know that.

After they’ve gone, Walker asks, “What are you guys up to now?”

“I guess back home?”

He looks to Jackson and Taylor and asks, “If you don’t mind sticking around, I can get you passes to wait inside and I’ll treat you all to dinner. I’m usually pretty hungry after a game.”

“Um...” I start as Kendall and Jackson shout, “Okay!”

That adorable smile appears again on Walker’s kissable lips. “Don’t leave. I’ll send someone over.” He meets my eyes again, then winks before hopping down. I watch as he struts over to one of the trainers and he nods, looking up at us.

After a pat on the ass— jealous! —the trainer comes over to us. “Bankes family?”

“I am!” Jackson holds up his hand like a schoolboy, and the girls and I can’t help our laughter.

“I’ll get you some passes, but it’ll be a few minutes. Mind waiting?”

“Not at all,” Jackson says.

The crowd has thinned out and the cleaning staff has started sweeping up the mess rowdy fans have made in the stands.

We’re all giddy with excitement when the trainer comes back with five lanyards and passes. “Take a right at the end of the tunnel and you’ll see the signs directing you to the family waiting area. We’re lucky to have Walker on the team. He’s going to be a game changer for us.”

I rub Jackson’s back as he straightens his shoulders like the proud big brother he is. I expected more people to be waiting based on how many family members I saw on the news the other night, but there are maybe a hundred people scattered around.

It’s probably because it’s only a preseason game, or maybe they're meeting up at a restaurant or at home. Regardless, I’m happy for Walker to have people waiting for him.

“What did you think of your first football game?” I ask Jackson as he impatiently scrolls through his phone.

Kendall and Rowan are too busy checking out the players as they slowly emerge from their closed off area and greet their loved ones.

“I get the excitement. All those people cheering for you. The energy in the crowd’s amazing, but I don’t understand why football games need to be so long. We get the idea after thirty minutes. Proud of Walker though. Not gonna lie. Every time the crowd chanted Take it to the Bankes I pretended they were cheering for me.”

I snort and shake my head. Leave it to Jackson to find a way to make himself the center of attention. He doesn’t ever do it to take away someone else’s sunshine though.

“Here he comes,” Taylor’s tall enough to see over the crowd, whereas I rise on my tip toes and all I can see are the backs of the taller people’s heads.

Jackson leaves our little circle and strides up to Walker, giving him the handshake, chest-bump-half-hug thing they do.

“I understand now why they put your ugly mug on the side of a bus.”

“Thanks.” Walker chuckles and glances at me before going over to Taylor. “It’s good to see you guys here.”

Taylor gives him a half hug and a pat on the back. “It was Riley’s idea, we all just jumped on the bandwagon.”

His right eyebrow lifts as he looks in my direction again.

“Tell me you’re friends with Miles Buckingham,” Kendall begs, not looking at Walker but glancing around the area as if Miles will appear out of thin air.

“Nice jersey.”

“Yeah, yeah. Your ass is already taken. Miles’s isn’t, is it?”

Oh, lordy. My cheeks burn in embarrassment. I’m sure Kendall has no idea what she implied and she’s just trying to get a rise out of Walker while also asking about her crush. Walker grins at me but speaks to Kendall.

“Who’s got my ass?”

Kendall stops her roaming eyes and glances at me, as if realizing her slip up. “Why, most of America and all of Boston. Duh.” She waves her hand in the air.

Nice save.

Rowan, being the hugger she is, hugs Walker. “I’m honored to know such a superstar. You’ve been the talk of the ER lately. I won’t mention how many nurses hinted they wouldn’t mind you getting injured so they could tend to you, but quickly rectified that they’d prefer it to not be during a game. Maybe a Tuesday afternoon papercut on your abs or rear end that needs stitches but doesn’t impede your game.”

While my face burns even hotter, everyone else busts out a laugh.

“I expected that from Kendall, not you,” Jackson says, wiping his tears. “My brother is a sexy beast. Who knew? Well, one of us knew.” His eyes meet mine and he gives me a wink, to which I reply with a scowl.

“We’d like to take you up on the offer for dinner,” Taylor offers, saving the day from more embarrassment.

“Really?” Walker looks surprised.

Again, my heart hurts for him. He’s like a little boy dying for attention but doesn’t want to come across too needy or desperate, afraid to be hurt and rejected again. It’s his innocence and humility that have me yearning for him again.

I may not be ready to risk my heart to him, but I want him as a friend, and Walker is hungry for friendship as well.

“We’d prefer if your hot teammates would join us,” Kendall says, folding her arms across her chest once the crowd has thinned and no more players are around.

“Kendall.” Rowan smacks her arm.

Walker doesn’t hide his amusement and locks eyes with me when he finally responds to Taylor’s question. “I’d love to join you all for dinner. My treat since you came out to support the team.”

“We came out to support you .” Jackson pats his shoulder, and the love and sense of belonging in Walker’s eyes nearly does me in.

“I take it your car is here?” Taylor asks. When Walker nods, he adds, “We can meet you at Cayenne, if Mexican is okay?”

“Sounds perfect.”

We make our way toward the parking lot and Walker stops at a tunnel leading down a restricted hall. “I’m parked over here. I’ll see you in a bit.”

Jackson gives me a not-so-subtle shove into Walker. “Riley, why don’t you ride in with Walker so he doesn’t have to be alone?”

Hell, my cheeks have barely had time to recover. Three times in less than five minutes and I’m burning up again. At least once we get to dinner I can blame it on the spicy food.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Walker says softly, still holding my forearms.

I tilt my head up and swallow. His scruff is neat and clean, and he smells like woodsy soap. My hands are trapped between our bodies, and his heart thumps loudly in his chest. I haven’t been this close to him since we danced on the yacht at Jackson and Taylor’s wedding.

“I don’t mind.” My words come out in a whisper.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable.”

Too late. “It’s okay.” Reluctantly, I drop my hands and step out of his almost-embrace. Turning over my shoulder to let them know I’ll go with Walker, I’m surprised to find us alone. “They left already?”

The corner of Walker’s mouth lifts. “Hightailed it as soon as Jackson pushed you into me.”

“Sorry about that. Your brother can be a pain in the ass.”

“Anytime.” He winks and reaches his hand out to take mine, then quickly brings it back to his side.

We walk side-by-side through the tunnel until we reach the private lot reserved for players. He unlocks the passenger door and holds it open for me. When I slide into his SUV, he looks down at my chest.

“I like my number and name on you.”

Before I can muster a reply, he closes the door and rounds the hood, which is a good thing because the wetness pooling between my legs tells me whatever words come out of my mouth will sound like a lusty moan.