The wind blew then and ruffled Brett’s hair.
“You’d give me your blessing, give Quillan your blessing, right? You’d like him, Hunt. He’s a good guy. He’s got the cutest little girl.” Brett began to cry again. “I think it hit Madi hard, seeing that little girl, the life y’all were supposed to have.” He looked up at the sun that beamed down on him then. He smiled, feeling it warm him, fill his hollow heart.
“I want to give your wife the life she deserved to have with you. I love her, you know how much I love her. It’s just this guilt that I can’t shake, Hunt. I need your forgiveness. I can’t move on without it. Tell me you forgive me for killing you. I’m so sorry. I’d do anything to turn back time.”
Brett held his breath and waited. Waited for redemption, even retribution. Retribution from a dead man. From a grave. He sat down on his butt, feeling defeated, feeling somewhat crazy for thinking he could come here and receive answers, a pardon.
Just as he started to rise, he heard a voice calling, “Son, what are you doing?”
Brett turned, surprise and awe filling him.
A little boy in a crimson Gladiators jersey came forward with big, chocolate brown eyes and a baseball hat hanging off his little head. He stared at Brett in surprise, holding his gaze for long moments before looking down and pointing. Brett’s eyes fell to see a tortoise walking over Hunter’s grave and he gasped, thinking of a conversation between Hunt and the team when Linc told him that the god Hermes was associated with a tortoise, from one of the fables they’d found online.
Well, then you named me after the wrong god, Lazarus. I’m far more comparable to the hare, Hunt had smirked to Linc and waited for Linc to deny his claims.
Linc and the rest of the guys had laughed big then, including Brett, for Hunt’s speed on the field was undeniable.
Linc had crossed his arms over his chest. There’s more reasons for why I named you Hermes, including that you’re a trickster and you’re fast, thus why I drew wings on your damn cleats, Speedy Gonzales.
Remembering that conversation had Brett tearing up before he smiled back up at the little boy, now giggling down at the tortoise on the ground.
“C’mon, champ, let’s go. Mommy’s waiting.”
Brett nodded at the boy’s father, realizing he knew who he was and looked embarrassed that his son had interrupted Brett’s moment.
When the little boy turned, Brett covered his mouth. He had on Hunter’s jersey, number 83.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
“A tortoise named Hermes. It’s only fitting,” Linc said as he moved over to the aquarium filled with dirt. “But he would have named it something else, ya know?”
Brett laughed and sipped the beer in his hand. He shrugged. “Probably Speedy.”
They all laughed and Pax shoved at Brett. “You better not have too many of those, Zeus. We got practice tomorrow.”
“You perfected your pose yet, merman?” Brett flicked at Paxton’s cup.
Pax scowled. He didn’t like Brett calling him that, but it was appropriate, especially after he’d caught him practicing his new victory dance while filming himself on his phone; everyone else had found it equally as hilarious.
“Drink your Kefir and zip it, hippie boy,” Trav smarted and playfully punched at Pax’s bare chest.
“I’ll have you know this is one of the healthiest—”
“Yeah, yeah, we’ve heard it! Lighten up, will ya? It’s Independence Day. Have a damn cerveza.” Quil grumbled and rolled his eyes, getting another laugh out of the rest of them.
Quillan had really hit it off with the team. Brett went to practice the day following his visit to Hunter’s grave, and it was as if everything just clicked. They took to the field, Brett threw a deep pass and hit Quil right between the numbers. He, in turn, took it into the end zone for a fifty-yard touchdown. It was as if the minor hiccup they’d had the entire week had never occurred. After that, they were on fire and had quickly formed a bond. They’d been practicing with the rest of the offense for the last few weeks and camp was starting next week. Their practices, routes, and routines were gonna get rigorous, so they were sucking up their last hoorah before their bodies and minds would be put to the test. But Brett felt good about his team, good about this year, and he planned to dedicate his to his best friend, Hunter Thomas.
Brett saw TJ looking around and stifled a smirk. He was looking for Brooke, Brett knew, Madi’s younger sister. Brooke was attractive in her own right, with straight brown hair, brown eyes, and deeper tanned skin than Madi’s; but Brooke was a loose cannon. She was admittedly open to both sexes, male and female. Hell, Brett wouldn’t put it past her to sleep with transsexuals. After all, she was much more liberal than her conservative sister and prided herself on being in the spotlight any chance she got; she was a model and pushed the envelope with her poses and stages of undress. She loved attention, good or bad, and that made her “dangerous” in Brett’s eyes.
Brett had first noticed TJ’s appraising eyes
