I stare at him. “You did hear what they said in there, right? They’re going to get married.” He doesn’t respond, and I go on. “We’ll be related.”
He shrugs. “Not really,” he says. “Not by blood. Anyway, you’re too sexy to let a little thing like that get in the way.”
I look to Cody for support and see him nodding in agreement with his brother. My eyes get wide. “Little thing?” I hiss. “Little?”
The side of Brock’s mouth quirks up. He clearly finds me and the whole situation amusing. “I guess that means you’re not coming with us.”
I shake my head, setting aside his obvious insanity, and ignore the yearning in particular parts of my body that want me to say yes to his invitation. “I’m exhausted,” I tell him. “I just wanted to say thanks. For the company at dinner, and ... everything.”
The twins have another one of their telepathic conversations, and their expressions turn serious. “You’re welcome,” Cody says. “You have our number, so anytime. Really.” His eyes search mine, and I wonder what he’s looking for.
“Okay,” I say, and wiggle my fingers at them. “See you … around … sometime.” I turn and go back in the house, and I can feel them watching me every step
of the way.
Not a Vibrator in the World
Megan
My dad’s waiting for me. His face is dark, and for a moment I think he must have heard us outside. I have an instant of panic before he says, “Megan, why are they taking a taxi?”
I’m totally unprepared. It hits me like a sneak attack. “What?”
His arms are crossed over his chest. “Why don’t they have their own car?” He’s in full-on Disapproving Authority Figure mode. “What happened in that accident?”
“We told you,” I say, even though we didn’t. It’s a lame response but I’m off my game. I wasn’t kidding when I told the brothers I was exhausted. “It’s been a really long day. Is it all right if we talk in the morning?”
His mouth tightens, but there’s nothing he can say to that without being a jerk, and my dad is not a jerk. “Sure, honey.” He kisses my forehead and I give him a hug. “I put your suitcase in your bedroom.”
Vivian comes to the kitchen door and I wiggle my fingers at her, too. She is definitely not getting a hug from me. “Good night,” I tell her, and make my escape.
My room hasn’t changed since high school, which is both comforting and kind of weird. I’ll be getting my own place as soon as possible, so I guess I can live with my teenaged self for a couple of weeks.
I put my clothes away, and then steel my nerves and turn my phone back on. Jason’s called half a dozen times since I shut it down. I glare at the screen, then curse when it rings and it’s him yet again.
The man will not get a clue. He didn’t even have the decency to apologize this morning. Instead, while I packed my car as fast as I could, he pleaded with me, then argued with me … then threatened me.
That was the real icing on the cake. I told him if he laid a hand on me, he’d never play pro football again. That shut him up.
Bastard.
Tomorrow, I’ll get a new phone with a different number. For now, I reject his call, then check for messages from my friends. My hometown besties Tara and Zoe want to take me to lunch tomorrow, and I send them a quick reply.
I have a few other messages. Some of them are from NFL wives — women I thought were my friends — calling me names and telling me I don’t deserve Jason. I know the NFL culture is very insular, but their betrayal adds another layer of hurt. I’m tempted to tell them they’re welcome to him. Instead, I delete all their texts.
When my phone lights up again, and the readout says it’s Jason, I lose it. I can’t help telling him off one more time before I smash this phone into tiny bits. Swiping the screen, I snarl at him, “Listen, you son of a bitch—”
“Megan.” From that one word, and the way he slurs it, I can tell he’s drunk off his ass. “Baby. I need you.”
“You should have thought of that before you cheated on me.” I’m disgusted with him and the self-pity in his voice. Acting like he’s the victim? Fuck that.
“You gotta come home, baby. ”
“Your house is no longer my home, Jason.” At that, a sob rises in my throat, but I take a deep breath and fight it back. “I’m never coming back, and you are never contacting me again unless you want a restraining order and a lot of bad publicity. Now get lost.” I end the call and shut down the phone before he can call back.
What did I ever see in him? Well, all right, I know what I saw. I was young, and he was handsome and charming, and sweet when he wanted to be. When we first met, I admit he swept me off my feet.
But If I’m honest, a part of me, deep down inside, has known for a long time that things weren’t right between us. Instead of facing facts, I kept lying, to myself and everyone else. I didn’t want to admit we weren’t the perfect couple we seemed to be. That I had failed.
Tossing the phone aside, I take a long, hot shower, washing away the grit of the road and the day’s emotions, and then I climb into bed. The sheets are fresh, and I have another moment of warm gratitude for my dad as I settle down to try and sleep.
I drift in and out of consciousness for a long time. I’m tired, but my brain won’t let me rest. Jason, his mistress, the drive, the wreck, the twins. The taxi ... the twins. Dinner ... the twins. Vivian.
The twins.
Cody and Brock. The two most delicious specimens of manhood I have ever encountered. They’re not just hotshot players in tight pants, starring on my TV screen on Sunday afternoon. They’re real, in the flesh ... and they’re somewhere nearby.