5. Luke

FIVE

LUKE

"So, Weston is option ten," I conclude, happy that we're a third of the way done with this.

"Yes," Gab says cheerfully. "Delton and Gage both told me they liked the kid," she says, referring to the two scouts she trusts the most at the Rogues' front office. "So if we get him, I bet Rashan can beat him into shape."

"He's already doing that to Fitzgerald," I point out.

"Yeah, but having more wide receivers who can be open and where you need them to be is never a bad thing."

"Point," I relent.

"Defense next—" My ringing phone cuts Gab off. She looks down at it with an offended frown.

I roll my eyes at her as I reach for it, and freeze when I see the area code of the unknown number. My hand trembles wildly as I swipe my thumb over the screen to answer.

"Yes." I croak out the word. It's rough, barely understandable, and I'm afraid it will only get worse when I instantly recognize the voice on the other side.

"Luke Riggs?"

"Sheriff Gordon," I answer, in a voice I don't recognize. It's like my mouth moves on autopilot then. "He's dead, isn't he?"

Some part of my subconscious notices that Gab freezes mid-step and her head swivels toward me, but I can't even fathom a look at her.

"He is, son." The rough but lazy drawl of the man who showed me so much kindness while I was growing up is nowhere to be found. He sounds... well, choked up. That makes no sense, though. Gordon is the furthest thing from a fan of my dad. "But that's not why I'm callin' ya. Your daddy, he uhm... Well, he had another child, son, and... the child's momma is in the wind. We're lookin' for her, you can bet we are, since there's a warrant for her arrest statewide. But the child services lady said you're the boy's guardian now. That they chose you. You gotta come pick him up."

"Him?" I whisper, and have to wet my lips and swallow hard. But it's like eating sand, my mouth's so dry.

What kinda fucked-up simulation is this?

This can't be real. What woman would be stupid enough not only to get tangled with my deadbeat dad, but to have a child with him?

Someone who then abandons that child and runs from the police, I guess.

"Yeah." Gordon's voice, with a bit more strength now, brings me back to what's important. The only thing that matters is meeting my...brother. And making sure he's safe. "He's one, looks just like you already. His name's Robert."

"Oh fuck." I can't help but snap at hearing that name. Tears pour out of my eyes in steady streams then, there's no stopping them. "He didn't. He couldn't." I shake my head and have to cover my eyes. This is not something I can cope with.

This is beyond me.

That bastard, fucking waste of space, can't have named his son after the man who my momma ran away with. God no. That's... another fucking level of insanity.

"Yeah, he did." Gordon confirms. "Everybody round here calls him Robbie, though. He's a good kid, a real good kid. Despite everything. I'll tell ya all of it when ya get here, Luke. You'll come, won't you? He needs you, Lucas."

Gordon says the last part like a warning, and I'm transported back to middle school when I got caught skipping school to mow lawns and make some money. Gordon took me back to school that day, and told me the best thing for me to do was stay there, get good grades, maybe even join the football team.

I'd been adamant about not joining the team precisely because of how much my daddy loves—loved—football, but I gave it a shot because Gordon said so. He fucking changed my world that day.

And now he's changing it again.

"Of course I'll come. I'll be there in a couple of hours," I promise, with absolutely no idea how I'm gonna make that happen, but hell, all the money has to be good for something.

"Good, come to the station, we're all here."

"Got it. See you soon."

I end the call and spring up. I'm very aware that all my body wants to do is crumble. My legs don't want me to take a single step. My eyes want to close and never open again, never have to face this.

But I will .

I have to, and more importantly, I want to.

There's no fucking way I'm leaving Robbie in that hellhole. I'm getting him the fuck outta there today .

That's when another thought occurs to me and I finally focus on Gab, who's looking at me with trepidation.

"I need a family law lawyer in Texas, and I need to get to Texas as fast as possible." She nods and doesn't need me to say anything else.

Fuck, but she's the best. She has her phone pressed to her ear a second later and is talking rapidly to her own lawyer. Then she puts the call on speakerphone and starts tapping away.

I watch her work and my legs finally give out.

A year.

I've had a brother for a whole fucking year, living in God knows what kind of conditions with that asshole, and I didn't know.

I don't only cry—this isn't just a case of tears falling down my face anymore—I sob, I scream, I let my chest fall to the ground and pound my fists against the hardwood floor.

Why didn't I go back? Why didn't I check on him?

I need to make it right, somehow. I have to make sure Robbie never grows up the way I did. I failed him, and now I need to make up for it.

Once I got myself together, and Gab had organized everything, I told her the bare bones of it. That there's a boy down in Texas who lost his father, and I'm his guardian. I told her I need to get him away from that place, and that's all she needed to hear to believe me .

She just believed me, told me the best lawyer in the state would be at the small airstrip fifty miles away outside of Tal, Texas, and sent me on my way.

I almost started sobbing again right then and there.

But the tears have stopped for now.

Even though I absolutely lost it at Gab's place, I still haven't fully grasped the existence of my brother. I mean, he's not really real yet. Does that make sense?

I sigh at the empty cabin.

No, I'm not making any sense.

What I need to do is stop thinking and feeling and just do .

I look down at my phone and see I've still got forty minutes to go on this flight, and I need to turn my brain all the way off. The best way to do that?

You either drink like good ol' Dad, you sleep, or you play the stupidest game on your phone.

I'm not touching a drop of alcohol the same day my father died—I didn't even have to ask why he died, I know it's got something to do with his drinking—and there's no way in hell I can sleep a wink.

So, I take out my phone, and no matter how shitty I feel about it—I know for a fact my best friends would judge the hell out of me if they saw me playing a game while I'm on my way to meet and adopt my little brother—it works.

In what seems like the blink of an eye, the flight attendant lets me know we're about to land, and I finally exist in this world again. My throat closes up tight as soon as I do.

I should've known I had a little brother. I should've been fucking aware.

It doesn't matter that it's technically my father's fault for not telling me, for fucking things with me so much that I'm happy I'll never see him again. Because the fact is, I'm the only one who was ever responsible between the two of us. I should've considered this could happen.

Hell, I could've hired a PI. It didn't have to be me going back to Tal. I should've?—

Enough , the voice in my head that sounds like Gordon snaps at me.

Only what's in front of me matters.

There's no changing the past.

There's only moving forward.

Keep moving forward.

I repeat that over and over, decide it's my new mantra, until the plane finally stops moving and I can disembark.

My phone vibrates the second I stand, and the panic rises again. Did something happen to Robbie? Is his mom, whoever she is, back? Does she want to take him?

A million more questions flit through my mind in the second it takes me to read the text.

Kevin

Seven tomorrow?

The question is so innocuous, so innocent, and so simple that it takes me an embarrassingly long time to realize he's talking about our tee time tomorrow morning.

I answer without giving it too much thought. I don't have the emotional capacity to tell my friends everything that's happened. I don't even know how I will—because of course I'll have to. But I'm hoping they'll give me a break for never telling them about my shitty father.

Luke

Gotta cancel on tomorrow.

Had to leave town unexpectedly.

I'll explain when I get back.

Kevin

What?!

Is everything okay?

Is there anything I can do?

His answers come back instantly. Fuck, he's a really good friend. His words make me feel all warm inside. It makes me realize I'm not alone. Even if I haven't told them, or explained to Gab, I'm not alone. And that means maybe I can actually do this, actually give Robbie a good life and get through the shitstorm waiting for me.

Luke

I'm okay, physically.

Don't worry, I promise to explain as soon as I get back.

Kevin

When are you getting back?

Luke

Don't know yet.

I'll keep you posted.

I lock my phone and shove it in my pocket without waiting for a reply. I'll get to him eventually.

I climb down the stairs and see a black Suburban waiting for me. The driver and passenger doors open at the same time, and who I assume is the driver nods at me before taking my duffel to put in the car.

"Landon, I presume?" I say as I reach the other man. Dressed in an impeccable suit, and with a perfectly groomed beard and brown hair that has some gray at the temples, I assume he's the lawyer Gab told me would meet me here.

"Yes, Mr. Riggs. I'm sorry to be meeting you under these circumstances. I'm a big fan."

"Call me Luke, please." I nod and smile tightly at him, and round the car to climb in. I appreciate the fans, I do. And I'll sure as fuck give this dude all the signed jerseys in the fucking world if he can help me leave this place in less than a day. Hell, less than two days. But right now isn't the time to talk about football.

"I had my PI look into your brother right after I got the call a few hours ago, and she found Robert's?—"

"Robbie," I interrupt, trying to soften my voice. "Please, call him Robbie."

Hearing that name fucking grates on me. There are too many bad memories of hearing my father screaming it right before a hit landed on my ribs, on my back, or right before a slap across the face.

"Okay." Mr. Landon agrees instantly, and I breathe a sigh of relief when he doesn't question me. "She found Robbie's birth certificate, as well as his enrollment in a daycare and his medical records."

My stomach turns at the last one, and I'd rather do almost anything else, but I have to ask, I have to know.

"Any emergency room visits?" The question comes out of my mouth as pure vitriol.

"One." I go rigid. "He had a very high fever seven months ago. One of the caretakers at his daycare brought him in, and they kept him for a day at the hospital until the antibiotics had worked. It was an ear infection that went unnoticed."

"Damn, your PI is something else if they got that in a couple of hours."

"That she is." Landon smiles slightly.

"What are the chances of me getting in, grabbing Robbie, and getting out and back on the plane today?" I ask, with na?ve hope in my voice. I know, but I can't help it.

"I'd say the chances are slim. I think at least a week, probably two until you can take him with you out of state. Since child services called you, they have to know you live out of state, so taking Robbie out of Texas won't be a problem, I don't think, but it won't be quick. You're unmarried and you're famous which aren't pros in your column, but you are his half-brother. They'll probably grant you temporary custody for a ninety-day test period and check up on you regularly throughout that time. The main thing is to make your intention to adopt clear, and start that process right away. If that process has started, even if the mother comes looking, there would be a trial and you'd more than likely have custody in the meantime."

"More than likely?" It's impossible to hide the edge in my voice. I need reassurance. I need to know I'll be able to protect Robbie at all costs. The two week thing... well it is what it is.

"I'd say ninety-seven percent chance. There are some whacky judges in Texas, let me tell you, but with the warrant to arrest her?—"

"What did she do?" I ask. Gordon didn't mention that.

"Your father reported her for child abandonment. And she was already part of an investigation into a hit and run a few days prior."

I scoff. " He reported her ? That's hypocritical," I mutter. "She must be a piece of work, though. What's the fastest way to get her out of Robbie's life forever?"

"Well, from the little information we've got, I have to say she does seem to have abandoned Robbie, and your father didn't."

That cuts deep.

"Abandonment isn't only physical absence," I say through gritted teeth.

"No it's not," Landon says gently. "It's also financial support, emotional support—" I interrupt him with a scoff again, looking out the window at the passing cars on the highway.

"There's no way in hell my father gave anything even close to emotional support to Robbie or anyone else."

"And that's very hard to prove unless there's substantial evidence of physical abuse. And there isn't, with Robbie."

I have to swallow hard to suck back the self-pity tears that want to come out. There was enough evidence with me, and no one did shit.

Doesn't matter.

What happened to me doesn't matter now.

"The fastest way to make sure you have unquestionable, full custody of your brother would be to make her sign away her parental rights," Landon starts, and I voice the logical conclusion.

"And if the police can't find her, there's no way we can."

"Pretty much. If we petition today for adoption and for her legal rights to be removed, it'll take longer, since a judge has to decide to sever her rights, and putting it all together takes time. But I'd say that if she's not caught within a year, you'd probably have parental rights in about that time. In the meantime, there will be home visits from social services, some scheduled some surprise ones. You will be judged over the next ninety days as to whether you're a good fit to raise him or not. "

"Okay," I sigh. He's giving me peace of mind actually. The fact that my father reported her before he passed is actually good for me. Look at that, the man did one thing right, even though it was probably to get something out of her. Then again, he could've done it just to make her miserable.

I really don't care about that woman. I know I should care at least a little. Like, I know how shitty it is to live with my father, so I can't blame her for leaving him, but leaving Robbie behind? A hit and run?

Maybe she's got a drug problem? Not that it absolves her, but addiction really is a disease, I understand that.

Maybe I could find a fuck to give for her if that were the case.

Whatever it is, I'll find out soon enough, I think, as we pass the stupid-ass billboard welcoming everyone to Tal, Texas—population, who-gives-a-fuck.

The station is right on Main Street, of course, and we get there and park in just under two minutes. I walk fast, laser focused, to the door, and only manage a small nod at Mrs. Walker, the receptionist here since the dawn of time.

"Lucas Riggs," she says with a smile, and stands. "Follow me." She tilts her head and starts walking into the station without another word. Thank God. I don't think I can speak until I get some answers.

She takes me to the sheriff's office, where a tired-looking woman wearing a wrinkled blue pantsuit is sitting in front of Gordon.

The sheriff rushes around his desk and greets me with a tight hug I wasn't expecting.

"So glad you're here, son," he whispers, and that finally has a tear falling. Only one though. I have to stay strong .

"Where is he? I need to see him," I say as I step back. "Please," I beg without shame.

"There's a few things you should know first." I don't like Gordon's tone, or the way he averts his gaze.

"Is he hurt?" I ask with my heart in my throat.

"No, he's not physically hurt in any way."

I breathe a little easier, but the way he clarifies, like I did to Kevin, has the hairs on the back of my neck standing up.

"What is it?" I demand through gritted teeth.

"Luke," Gordon says with a sigh, and lowers his head. He takes his hat off and runs a hand through the thin strands of his still-blond hair. "Robbie's momma..." He trails off and I'm out of patience.

"Spit it out, Gordon," I snap, and regret it instantly when he closes his eyes with a pained look. Then he opens them, and I see so much pain and regret in his expression that I stumble back half a step.

"It's Marcy."

"What?!" I explode with a shout. He winces, and I don't blame him. I need to keep my composure, otherwise they're never gonna let me have Robbie, but c'mon, this means he's my brother and... my ex's son.

And, as it turns out, Robbie's also Gordon's grandson.

What the actual fuck?