“Hunter Thomas was my best friend,” Brett said and looked over at the woman beside him, the woman he loved with every centimeter of his being, the one now beaming brightly up at him on this sunny early August day. “Practicing without him, and being on this field without him has been difficult—not only for me, but the other players who loved him as much as I did. This organization took a huge hit when Hunt passed away.” Brett stepped back and cleared his throat before moving back to the mic in front of him. “As the team captain and the quarterback, I’m pledging my year to Hunter. May his spirit, the spirit of Hermes, flow through each and every one of us as we strive to achieve the same goals we had last season. This team has heart, this team has ambition, and we aim to give it our all, for not only us but also for our fans. Here’s to Hunter Thomas.”
The crowd roared in response and chanted “Hermes” as Madi and Brett raised their arms together. He pulled her to him and hugged her, although not as familiarly as he wanted to. After all, they were in front of eighty thousand people in the stands and millions live. He kissed her cheek and smiled into her face, getting one in return. She took his arm as they walked back toward the sidelines, getting cheers from the team as they filed into the tunnel.
The first half had been pretty uneventful where Brett was concerned, he’d only ran three plays—two runs and a pass—before he’d been called back to the safety of the sidelines. Then he’d spent the next hour waiting for time to hurry up while he watched his second string, Hayes Bentley, do what Brett wanted to be doing, playing QB. He knew his coach was just protecting his asset, but Brett was pumped, ready for the season, and eager to find out what Madi wanted to talk to him about.
Obviously, it wasn’t too bad or she wouldn’t still be smiling at him like she was now.
“I’m gonna head back up. I’ll see you after the game.”
“I’ll be there, sexy lady. Be naked!” His brow rose in challenge, and she blushed appearing to be contemplating it, which got a chuckle out of him.
“Meet me in the box.” She leaned in to kiss his cheek, and he savored the feel of her lips on his skin. He grabbed her hand and kissed it, making a big production of not letting her go and getting another smile out of her as she reluctantly pulled away.
He turned then and listened to his coach talk about their angle in the next half and telling Bentley what he wanted out of him. Brett propped himself against the wall and pretended to listen, all the while he was thinking about Madi and when he could have her wrapped around him again.
The last five weeks had been everything he’d ever imagined they would be. He and Madison had loved each other, as he’d always dreamed they would—undeniably, completely, and with raw abandon. They’d lost themselves to one another in the throes of passion on practically a daily basis. He’d never loved anything more in his life than he did Madi, and he couldn’t wait to ask her to be his for all eternity. He was the next one planning an elaborate proposal and understood why Travis had wanted his to be big. Brett could’ve shouted it from the rooftops, but knew he and Madi had to be slow with their announcement, giving the organization and the fans time to see that their relationship had “slowly” progressed into something more than friendship since Hunter’s death.
They already had the blessing of their families and even Frank and Rita Thomas who loved their daughter-in-law and still spoke to her regularly. They were glad Madi had found love again and wished them the best. Brett wasn’t feeling guilty anymore, except for the fact that he hadn’t discussed everything he needed to with Madi.
Brett hadn’t told her that Hunter had lived long enough to talk to him, to say his goodbyes. It wasn’t that Brett had wanted to keep it from her, it was simply that the conversation had never come up, the timing had never been right. He knew he just needed to come out and tell her, say it and be done. She wouldn’t be mad—would she?
Had someone told her that Hunter had lived after he’d been pulled from the car? Had someone confessed that he’d died in the ambulance—twice—and the EMTs had brought him back? Had someone from the hospital informed her that Brett had had about five minutes to talk to Hunt before he’d finally succumbed to death? Was that why they’d “needed to talk”? Brett couldn’t shake the fear even as his team huddled, chanted their new chant this year, “Gods of the Gridiron,” and ambled back to their lockers to get their gear.
Travis gathered him, Linc, Quil, TJ, and Pax over, while grinning like a shit-eating possum.
“Bring it in, guys. There’s something I gotta tell ya.”
“What’d you do? Knock up your fiancé?” Pax smarted with a snort—something Hunt would have said—and it made them all chuckle.
“BINGO!” Travis shouted and clapped, laughing excitedly.
“Holy shit, dude. Really?” Linc was the first to clap Travis’s back in congrats.
Quil was next, grinning and pointing at him as if to say, “Way to go.”
Brett was in shock—and a little jealous, if he were being honest with himself—but he tried not to let his friend see it as he gave him a fist bump and a smile.
Pax shoved him, playfully. “Damn, dude, you’re so impatient. You couldn’t have waited ‘til the honeymoon?”
“Hey, Ares is a greedy god, what can I say? That redhead of mine says, ‘Take me, Daddy,’” Travis stated in a high-pitched voice, imitating Skyla, “and I’m there.” Travis smirked, gaining an eye roll from the rest of them.
“Oh, Sky calls you Daddy? That’s what
