When they’d gotten in trouble as children, Brett and his brothers had known better than to beat around the bush. They could’ve gotten away with murder around their prim mom, but their dad was a hard-ass and didn’t abide disrespect, disloyalty, or disobedience; his strong Scottish roots ran deep.
“I couldn’t make a single pass to Quillan today, Dad. I felt like a rookie all over again. It was damn embarrassing. Talk about making an ass out of oneself.”
“We all have off-days, lad.”
“Not like this. I can’t get my mind right. I felt…” Brett shook his head, unable to convey his thoughts.
“You were in the car with him when he was injured and with him when he passed away. That affected you. Probably even more than you know. Now, barely months later you’re moving in on his wife. You’re feeling guilty.”
Brett wasn’t “moving-in” on Hunt’s wife. It had been Madi who’d come to him, but he wouldn’t get into the rigors of it with his dad. Still, that fact did bother him when he looked at the big picture. He knew he hadn’t intended to do what he’d done with her that night she’d propositioned him, but it was bound to happen. Their connection, their draw to one another was simply too strong to resist. It was why Brett was attempting to take it slowly, but he also knew his old man wasn’t being accusatory, just being a sounding board.
“It was as if Hunt were there on the field. As if I could see him, his jersey, feel his presence. It was…”
“Have you visited his grave since the funeral?”
No, come to think of it, he hadn’t. Wow! Some best friend he was.
“I know your relationship with Hunter was shaky at times and perhaps that’s bothering you, too.” It was true, although other than Madi he’d not really discussed their issues with anyone else. Again, Brett wasn’t surprised his dad had picked up on it. “Son, perhaps you need to go and have a little chat with him. Ease your mind, your conscience, your hesitations. Just go talk to him about how you feel. You’ve been so focused on Madi’s grief that I bet you haven’t really had time to do much of your own, have you?”
Brett looked at his father as if he’d just revealed the holy grail. He was spot-on; Brett had not taken the time to assess his feelings, aside from letting the guilt consume him. Yeah, he’d cried, he’d prayed, he’d let the emotions run their course, but he was still stuck in the middle of his own grieving process. No wonder Madi was ahead of him. She’d faced the toughest part of the road and forced herself to battle it out when she’d taken some time alone. Brett hadn’t done that. He’d run from it; he’d not faced it head on. He’d cowered in a corner, and when the time came to move forward, he’d shoved the truth down; allowing a “ghost” of his former friend to upset him.
“You’re right, Dad.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m old and wise.” He winked over at Brett, getting a smile out of him. His father might be “old and wise,” but he was incredibly far from feeble. At just fifty-five, Drew was in great shape, barely graying, and had the stamina of a thirty-year old. He ran every day and could run circles around Brett’s brothers. Brett hoped he aged half as well as his “old man.”
They had a delicious dinner of roasted veggies, steak, and salads and the conversation was easy. Brett felt better talking to his father and even his mother.
As he and Madi left, he felt lighter than he had in weeks. He was planning to go talk to his best friend. Despite knowing that he could’ve talked to him anywhere, he knew it would help to visit Hunt’s gravesite and let go of some emotions he’d held in for far too long.
He hoped doing so would change things.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Brett’s mood was atrocious a week later. He still hadn’t been able to sync with Quillan, nothing was working. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t get his mind right, couldn’t ease his heartache, couldn’t stop seeing Hunter…
And he hadn’t been to the gravesite. He couldn’t force himself to go. There was something holding him back, some unseen force keeping him away.
He and Madi had slept in the same bed together, but they hadn’t messed around. He hadn’t even kissed her and was starting to feel guilty about that. She seemed to understand he was off but that didn’t make him feel better. So, you’re feeling bad about messing around with your best friend’s wife but then guilty about not messing around with her. Make up your fucking mind, Brett!
He was pumping iron hard the next afternoon, during the scheduled time when the defense was supposed to be working out and some of the guys looked at him like he was nuts. He didn’t care, he ignored them. To hell with them! Yes, he’d already worked out today, but the only other thing he could think of to get his frustrations out wasn’t an option. He wasn’t having sex with Madi, not yet. He couldn’t afford anything else to be remorseful about. And if it came to making himself feel bad or Madi, he would choose himself. She had enough on her plate still too and he wouldn’t burden her by “unburdening” himself. So, it was workouts and running. That’s what he did, since his
