Mac clutched the quilt to herself and glared at him. “Are you telling me to give up on Will? Would you quit looking if you’d lost your brother? Wouldn’t you have to know what happened to him? Could you just walk away?”
Bruiser’s face fell as if she’d physically hurt him. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
“Because you won’t share your life with me. Well, you don’t know a damn thing about me either. We were nothing but sex partners. So no regrets. Just get out.” Mac pointed toward the door.
The cat stood in the doorway, twitching his tail and regarding them both with equal disdain, as if they were too stupid to see the truth. Maybe Bart knew more than they did.
“Mac, I—” Bruiser held out his hands, palms up.
Mac ignored him and stomped into the bathroom, locking the door behind her. She sank down to the floor and huddled in the corner until she heard him drive off.
Chapter 16—Out of Downs
One week into training camp, Bruiser slumped on a bench in the empty locker room and stared at nothing, contemplating another lonely Friday night. The rookies scattered like geese being chased by a retriever when he hit them up to join him for a drink, while the cagey veterans left the locker room before he could track them down. What the fuck? Maybe he hadn’t been good company lately.
“You gonna sit here all evening like some pathetic pansy-ass?” Brett walked out of the showers, a towel around his waist. He hadn’t spoken to Bruiser except for one-syllable words since he’d learned about Bruiser and Mac.
Bruiser straightened and looked up at his once best buddy. “Haven’t got anything better to do.” Damn, he hated it when he felt sorry for himself.
“You look like you could use a friend.” Brett walked to his locker, tossed his towel aside, and started dressing.
“I could. You know of anyone interested in the job?”
Brett chuckled. “Being friends with you is a job, all right.”
“Yeah, I know. I’m a total ass.”
“I wouldn’t go that far. Harris has that title all sewn up.”
“I’m next in line then.” Bruiser had to laugh. One thing they could always agree on was Tyler Harris was an awesome quarterback and a master asshole.
“Harris teaches classes on the twelve steps to being an unrepentant asshole.”
“I might have to sign up.”
Brett smiled at him. “I’m heading out in the boat, doing a little fishing before dusk, you in?”
Despite his crappy mood, Bruiser couldn’t say no to Brett and to fishing. “Hell yeah.”
Within an hour, Bruiser and Brett were sitting in Brett’s boat on Lake Washington, fishing lines dangling in the water. They’d run through their usual talk about football—the upcoming season, promising rookies, and how training camp was going.
Then they talked about Elliot and his progress. He was adjusting pretty well to his foster home, going out in public, managing to deal somewhat with the stares and whispers. He’d made some new friends at a summer camp for young burn victims, which Bruiser sponsored every year.
After exhausting those subjects, they sat in a companionable silence for a while. Bruiser relaxed and enjoyed the warm evening. He’d missed Brett. Maybe this day wasn’t a total wash.
Finally, he cleared his throat and broke the silence. “You’ll be happy to hear that I’m not seeing Mac anymore.”
“No shit?” Brett grunted and stared at the blue-black water lapping against the boat.
“No shit.” Bruiser tried to swallow the lump in his throat. He felt like crap, couldn’t sleep, and had no appetite. The only woman who’d ever made him feel this crappy had been CeCe. He hated feeling like this, hated the regrets and the heartache.
“Well, that makes sense now. You look like shit. It’s our first week of training camp, and you haven’t been worth a damn. I’ve seen Girl Scouts tougher than you are.”
“I’m a dumb ass. A wimpy idiot.”
“And an asshole-in-training.”
“Damn right.” Bruiser laughed. Hell, it felt good to laugh. It’d been a long week.
Brett angled his head and squinted into the sun. “You miss her?”
Bruiser clutched the pole and stared at the tip as if it were a Magic 8-Ball with all the answers to his questions. Only it wasn’t. “Yeah, I guess so.”
“When did you split?”
“Last week.”
“What’d you do to screw that up?”
“I just didn’t want to hurt her.” It sounded like the lamest excuse ever.
“Yeah, whatever. What really happened?”
“Fuck if I know. I guess I got scared. But she never had enough time for me anyway. She spends all her spare time looking for her brother. Besides, she doesn’t understand me.” God, he sounded like a whiny ass to his own ears.
“Did you ever give her a chance to understand you?”
Bruiser doubted that he had. “Probably not. She keeps pushing to know about my brother.”
“Maybe you should tell her.”
Bruiser didn’t know how he felt about that, but what if Brett was right?
* * * * *
Training camp started, and Mac worked long hours keeping the grass practice field in perfect shape. One hidden hole or too much water in one spot could make a slippery surface and cause injury to a player and ruin his season, maybe even his career. Mac and the rest of the grounds crew took great pride in the field’s durability and appearance.
Her day started after the team left the field, making for late nights. But no matter how many hours she spent at work and how exhausted she was when she came home, Bruiser snuck into her thoughts and her dreams, even though he didn’t sneak into her house.
With his absence from her life, she rededicated herself to the search for Will, going after it with single-minded purpose of an alcoholic pursuing his next drink, reminding herself a bit of her father.
Mac caught glimpses of Bruiser on the field with his glistening, tanned, shirtless body and blond hair. On Monday night, he showed up at O’Malley’s for the team’s night out and sat at the opposite end of the table from Mac,
