Chapter Seventeen

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Renn

Blakely’s soft breathing fills the air.

I stopped being able to feel my left arm an hour ago, but I can’t force myself to move. Her head is curled in the bend of my arm with her face against my chest. An arm is draped over me and one of her legs is thrown over mine like she’s afraid I might get up.

Little does she know that if I could press pause on this night and stay here forever, I would.

My affection for this woman has only grown since we’ve been here—since we got married. I expected to grow frustrated or bored with her like I typically do after being with someone for more than a day or two. But with Blakely, it’s the opposite.

She’s kind and sweet. Funny as hell. Every time I’m inside her, it’s better than the time before. And that, in and of itself, is unsettling.

It kills me a little to leave Australia early. Here, we’re perfect. Once we go home, all hell could break loose, and life has a chance to wedge itself between us.

I quite like where we are. Glancing down, I brush a strand of hair off her cheek. I like it here a whole hell of a lot.

“You’re setting yourself up for failure,” I whisper into the night.

My chest pulls so hard that I wince.

Call it jet lag, but a strange surge of energy bleeds through me. I carefully untangle myself from Blakely, pressing a kiss to her cheek and tucking her back beneath the blanket before I get up. As quietly as I can, I grab my phone and sneak out of the room.

The house is eerily quiet. The only sound comes from the waves through the open door in the living room.

Restless, I find myself on the patio overlooking the water below. The bright moon hangs high in the sky, casting its glow on everything below.

I grip the railing and hang my head—reality hitting me like a player on the pitch.

“If either of us starts to develop real feelings for each other … Then we walk away immediately. No questions asked.”

She said that for a reason.

I get it. I understand why Blakely wouldn’t want to be with a guy like me. I’m problematic and unreliable—at least, according to the world. I’m foolish, according to my father. I’m selfish and crave independence, if you listen to me.

So why in the world would she be interested in me?

I grit my teeth.

A week ago, I had a best friend, a solid working contract, and a lull in my never-ending war with my father. Tonight, I have none of that. But I have her. And when I think about it, I really only want her.

“You’re getting fucked up,” I mutter, taking out my phone and checking the time. I do some quick math and realize Brock will be awake.

It rings three times before he answers. “Hey.”

“Hey,” I say back, leaning against the railing. “We haven’t heard from you. Blakely is getting worried.”

“Oh, but you’re not?”

I laugh. “Well, I’ve been a little preoccupied.”

“Renn? Don’t . That’s my little sister.”

I laugh anyway. “All joking aside, are you okay? I know you’re still pissed—or I would be, anyway. But that’s all it is, right?”

He exhales harshly through the line. “You’d be pissed?”

I shove off the railing and wander aimlessly around the patio.

My admission probably opened a door to a new argument with Brock, but that doesn’t make it any less true. I would be madder than hell if Brock married Bianca in a drunken haze. There’s no doubt about it. She deserves better than that … and so does Blakely.

I suck in a breath. “I’m sorry for all of this. It was careless and irresponsible—and I should’ve kept my head together that night and taken care of your sister like I said I would. My life is a shit show at all times, and it was shitty of me to put her in a position to be in the middle of it.”

He stills and says nothing.

“But, dammit, Brock …” I run a hand through my hair. “You have to know that I wouldn’t hurt her, right? Tell me that you know that I will do everything I can to protect her from any fallout. I mean that .”

I stop at the loveseat and stare off into the night. It takes him a long, tense couple of minutes to reply.

“I appreciate the apology,” he says. “I know you mean it.”

A sigh of relief leaves me.

“You know,” he says, “I’ve been thinking about this—and other things—a lot since I’ve been home. I was so fucking angry with you both for getting into this situation … and I was mad that you added another load of stress on me.”

My brows pull together. “Another load of stress on you?”

He sighs heavily. “I had my physical a week ago for the upcoming season. The doctor told me that I’m fine, first of all. I’m not dying or anything.”

I release a breath. “Fuck you for that.”

He chuckles. “You’re welcome.”

“So what did he say?”

“Doc had me participate in this study about white matter in the brain of athletes. I go in every six months or so and have some testing done. It’s supposed to help gather data so they can learn how to identify brain injuries in people with repetitive head impacts—like us.”

My stomach drops to the ground.

“And apparently I show signs of neurological damage.” His words hang in the air. “He can’t say that for sure because this technology isn’t perfect. But he highly suggests that I retire.”

Oh fuck . I sit on the loveseat.

I try to process what he’s telling me without panicking or jumping to conclusions. How long has he known this? Has he told anyone or is he dealing with this on his own? Is there more to the story that he’s not telling me?

Damn you, Brock.

“Are you okay?” I ask. “You’re all right, though, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine. I mean, I feel fine. But now I have to make this decision about whether I want to believe him and walk away from the game, or risk it and play out my contract.”

I gulp. “What does your gut say?”

“My gut says to say screw it and keep playing. I only have two more years until my contract runs out. I can play safe and get out of there before I’m thirty-five. I’ll be fine.”

“Have you talked to your sister about this?”

“No. And you won’t either. Hear me?”

I bury my head in my hand.

My brain reels with this information—and an underlying concern that maybe I’m in the same boat. But either way, Brock is facing this decision, and I know what Blakely would say. It will kill her if she loses her only family member left. She’s had enough suffering. Enough pain.

“Walk away,” I say, my voice dead.

“It’s two more years—”

“But it could cost you fifty.” I stand, adrenaline building in my blood. “You can’t risk it, man. Think about it. Think about your health. Your sister. Ella. Fuck, think about me .”

He chuckles. “Of course, you would make this about you.”

“Well, yeah. You’re about the only person in this world I like. You can’t get all fucked up. Think about the bigger picture here.”

“I’m honored.” He sighs. “I’ve been an asshole to everyone—to you, to Blakely. Ella won’t talk to me. I feel like I’m losing everything in my life all at once, and I have a small opening here to try to catch it.”

“Good thing you can catch shit, then, isn’t it?”

“What do I do, Renn? Do I tell everyone this and scare the shit out of them? Do I ignore it? What happens if this is a sign of what’s to come? Would I even want to saddle Ella with that? Do I let her go? Do I walk away from my contract? What do I do with the rest of my life? I don’t fucking know, and I’m stressed out .”

The call goes quiet as we process the last few minutes.

For the first time since we got here, I wish I was home.

“We leave here tomorrow night. If you want to sit down and go over it, I’ll be there—post jet lag. Tell me when.”

“Thanks, Renn.”

“Of course.” I look at the night sky. “You don’t have to tell her, but please call your sister. She knows something is wrong and just needs to hear your voice.”

“Do me a favor. Don’t fuck this up with Blakely,” he says.

“Shut up. You’re not dying, asshole.”

He laughs. “No, I’m not. But I can hear something in your voice that tells me that things between you are probably exactly what I fear.”

“Hot?”

“Fuck off.”

I laugh, grateful for the change in tone of the conversation.

“The two of you have always had this … thing,” he says. “If you’re in the same room, you find one another. No one else exists. You laugh at the same shit. You have this push and pull that’s amusing—or it would be if she wasn’t my baby sister and you weren’t you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“You know what I mean.” He sucks in a breath. “I’ve seen this coming for a long time, and I’ve tried to keep it from happening. I should’ve known it was a pointless attempt.”

I force a swallow. “What are you saying, Brock?”

“I’m saying that you just told me that she needs me to call her. And that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you give a shit about what anyone else needs.” He laughs softly. “Just take care of her and don’t hurt her. I trust that you will do what’s best for her.”

“We’re doing this for ninety days. That’s it.”

“Whatever you’re telling yourself. I’ll see you when you get home.”

I nod. “Okay. I’ll see you then.”

“Bye.”

“Goodbye.”

I end the call but keep the phone in my hand.

I can’t go back to bed now because I’ll toss and turn all night. I can’t talk to Blakely about it. And I sure as hell can’t sit here with my thoughts and wind up looking at online medical sites. I’ll be convinced Brock is dead.

My fingers scroll through my contacts until I find Bianca’s name. Ignoring the plethora of unread messages, I open her chat box.

Me: Talk to me.

Bianca: Hi to you, too. How is married life?

Me: Going exceptionally well, as a matter of fact. I kind of like it.

Bianca: That’s scary.

I laugh.

Me: How are things with your neighbor? Is he still banging all night?

Bianca: No comment.

Me: COMMENT.

Bianca. laughing emoji Oh, he’s banging all night …

Me: Oh. I see.

Bianca: It’s going exceptionally well, as a matter of fact. I really like it. heart-eye emoji

Me: I assume you didn’t call the police on him.

Bianca: hiding face emoji

“What the hell does that mean?” I ask, typing furiously.

Me: Tell me you didn’t.

Bianca: How did I know he was just a dom? I was trying to do a public service.

Me: Okay, now I know you’re kidding.

Bianca: I AM NOT KIDDING.

Me: There is no way you’re any man’s sub.

Bianca: Oh, big brother. The things I can’t tell you. Now, let’s transition out of this uncomfortable conversation and focus on other lighter things … like Mom is throwing you a party when you get back. I’m supposed to find out when you’re returning.

Me: We leave tomorrow.

Bianca: So anticipate an extravaganza this weekend. I heard there’s a champagne fountain, caviar, and a string quartet in the works.

My lips twitch.

Me: Sounds good.

Bianca: You’re just going to roll with that?

Me: And show off my beautiful wife to the family? Count me in.

Bianca: I’m … puzzled by all of this. But I’m going to play along and see where this goes.

Me: You do that.

Bianca: Also, before I go, our family chat has about eighty-three million messages for you, and everyone is annoyed you aren’t responding. So when you have a couple of free hours, you might want to dig through that.

Me: Or not.

Bianca: laughing emoji Okay, I gotta run. There’s a meeting about the Arrows purchase in twenty minutes, and Dad asked that I attend.

My stomach tightens.

Me: What’s the status of that?

Bianca: I’ll let you know. Xo

Me: xo

“Renn?”

I look over my shoulder and listen. Blakely’s sleepy voice calls out again.

“Renn?”

I make my way back to the bedroom. She’s half awake, propped up in bed.

“Where did you go?”

“Just got a drink,” I say, slipping beneath the covers beside her. “I’m back.”

“Good.” She snuggles up next to me. “Don’t leave me again. Okay?”

I couldn’t if I tried, especially with Brock’s words bouncing around in my brain.

“I’ve seen this coming for a long time, and I’ve tried to keep it from happening. I should’ve known it was a pointless attempt … I’m saying that you just told me that she needs me to call her. And that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you give a shit about what anyone else needs ... Just take care of her and don’t hurt her. I trust that you will do what’s best for her.”

I kiss the top of her head. If you only knew …