The Star (Charleston Condors Book 1)
The Star: Chapter 4

RILEY DIDN’T SLEEP WELL.

There was the fact it was a new bed and a new house, and he never slept well in a brand-new place the first night. Then there was the additional wrinkle of Landry being just down the hall in his own bedroom.

But the real problem was the nerves skittering through him at the thought that tomorrow morning would be the first day of his real NFL career.

The first day he began to prove that Aidan wasn’t the only Flynn worth having on a roster.

He tossed and turned, anxiety spiking inside him with every passing thought of everything that could go wrong.

But after finally falling into an uneasy sleep, he’d had uneasy dreams. He’d woken twice, startled awake. Finally, the third time, Riley rolled over and glanced at his phone. Five-forty-three. His alarm was set to go off in about an hour.

With a groan, he dragged himself out of bed and nearly stumbled downstairs in just his boxer briefs, but then he remembered he was staying with Landry, and while feeling the warmth of his appreciative gaze on his body was intriguing, it was very distracting, and Riley didn’t need any more distractions. Not today, anyway.

So he threw a t-shirt on and headed downstairs.

To his surprise, the kitchen light was already on, and there was Landry, slumped at the table, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him and a protein shake in his hand.

Unlike Riley, he hadn’t put a shirt on, and Riley wasn’t proud of it, but he nearly stumbled over the threshold at the sight of big and broad Landry—there was a lot of bare skin to admire, never mind the trail of golden brown hair that led down to the waistband of his boxer briefs. Landry glanced up, and their gazes caught.

I give you two weeks before you’re fucking.

Ugh. What was he supposed to say? Sorry, but it seems you might be queer after all? You wanna talk about it? You wanna not talk about it at all and roll around in bed instead?

“Couldn’t sleep?” Landry asked.

“No,” Riley said. He made a face as he leaned against the counter. “I shouldn’t be because I’m ready for this, but I’m nervous.”

“‘Course you are,” Landry said matter-of-factly. “This is a big deal. But you said it, you’re ready for this.”

Riley headed to the coffee machine and grabbed a mug stacked next to it, filling it nearly to the brim. He kept meaning to quit caffeine, but how did you quit something that smelled so goddamn good?

Normally, Riley wouldn’t have admitted to nerves about today.

But this was Landry. He knew just how hard Riley had worked to get here—or he had to have a pretty decent idea. He knew what was riding on the next few weeks.

He also had to know just how much Riley did not want to go to Toronto, depressed and defeated, and deal with his brother.

Aidan would be nice. Nice and so fucking patronizing. Riley would want to punch him, repeatedly, and Riley didn’t want to do that. He loved his brother.

The best thing for both of them was to make separate lives.

“Coach Kelley told me he talked to you,” Riley said, hating the uncertainty he heard in his voice. He was confident; he was confident. He just wanted to get on that field and throw his first pass, and then maybe he’d settle down, wrap the belief he could do this around himself like a warm, fuzzy blanket. “I…I really appreciate that you did that.”

Landry’s gaze was just as warm. And it bolstered him before he’d even had a chance to get on the field. “I just told the truth,” he said. Then he grinned. “Rest is up to you.”

It was. He could do this.

All those people who believed he couldn’t, even his brother, the person he loved and trusted more than anyone else, didn’t matter.

Their chatter at the back of his mind faded until it was almost silent.

He believed—and Landry believed, too.

Coach Kelley. Coach Oscar, too. Hadn’t they spent the last two days coming up with plays designed especially for him and his particular skill set?

They were on his side and wanted him to succeed maybe even more than he did because if he did, they’d get another year to rebuild.

Riley would continue getting chances, too. Enough that maybe he wouldn’t constantly feel like he was trying to prove himself. Maybe enough that he could finally relax and just enjoy himself on the football field again.

“I’m gonna make some breakfast.”

Landry raised one golden brown eyebrow. God, he was so gorgeous like this, even sleepy in the early morning light. Especially sleepy in the early morning light. Riley could feel his crush nearing non-crush-like proportions.

Could feel himself imagining what it would be like waking up next to him in bed, looking just like he did right now.

“You really don’t have to cook, you know,” Landry suggested. “Not that I’m gonna turn breakfast down.”

“It actually helps,” Riley said, straightening and heading towards the fridge. “Relaxes my mind. Besides, I have a feeling I won’t be doing much cooking the rest of the week.”

There was a lot he needed to do to get ready for the game on Sunday. And he would be ready, hell or high water.

After eating Riley’s unsurprisingly delicious pancakes, Landry put his bag together, and he and Riley headed into the Condors’ practice facility together.

Riley had made noise about renting a car while he was here, but Landry had just shaken his head. “I’ve got two,” he said. “Feel free to borrow one of them whenever you want.”

“Really?” Riley looked surprised, glancing over at the Mercedes convertible sitting next to the Range Rover they were taking in.

“Seriously, it’s just a car,” Landry teased. “Doesn’t Aidan own like fifty of them?”

Riley rolled his eyes. “You know he does. And he’d smack me if I borrowed one of them.”

“Brothers, right?”

Riley’s laugh echoed through the car, and Landry felt his heart rate speed up right along with the car as he hit the accelerator.

“Right,” Riley agreed.

The drive to the Condors’ practice facility was quick, less than ten minutes, which was why Landry had been so excited to find this rental in an area that still felt like a neighborhood, as close as he had.

As soon as they parked, he looked over at Riley. He looked pale and a little apprehensive. “You good?” he asked.

Even though he knew what this felt like. Remembered what it had felt like six years ago when he’d first started in the NFL. He’d been fucking terrified, and while he’d certainly had his share of expectations, his share of people to prove wrong, it was nothing like it was with Riley.

“Yeah, yeah…” Riley hesitated. Shot him a smile, not nearly as bright as so many of the others Landry had seen. “I will be.”

“Yeah, you will be,” Landry said, not only believing it himself but hoping that Riley would, too.

“Well,” Riley said, pushing the door open, “I guess no time like the present to get started.”

“Hey, wait a sec,” Landry said, hopping out and following him, fumbling for the keys to lock the car.

Riley turned, an expectant look on his face.

Landry pulled him into a tight hug, feeling, for that brief second they held each other, the way Riley’s body melted into his.

He’d meant it to be a friendly kind of hug, the kind of hug that said, yep, you got this, dude, but in reality, it was nothing like any kind of bro hug Landry had ever experienced. It felt hushed, intimate, Riley’s chin hooking over his shoulder and staying there.

It was Riley who pulled away first.

He didn’t say anything, but there was an expectant question in his eyes.

“I…uh…just wished someone had given me one of those on my first day,” Landry said. Meaning it.

“Not my first day,” Riley teased lightly.

“First enough it still counts,” Landry insisted.

Riley turned to walk across the parking lot towards the front door, and Landry followed, his big strides eating up the head start Riley had gotten in seconds. “Seriously, though,” Riley said, not looking at him, which Landry decided was a good thing because if he looked at him again, with those big, wide, blue eyes, he might do something even stupider, like kiss him instead of hug him. “I appreciate the faith. Hope it’s not misplaced.”

“It’s not,” Landry said with finality. “It’s definitely not.”

Practically the moment they walked through the door with Landry pulling out his badge, even though it wasn’t like he wasn’t distinctive enough to be recognized easily, Riley was whisked away by an assistant waiting for him to arrive.

Landry knew he should be heading down to the weight room, getting his morning workout in, but he hesitated, watching as Riley’s back disappeared through the other doorway.

“You look lost.”

Landry glanced over and realized Deacon had come in behind him.

Deacon Harris was a defensive end and was one of the very few players on the team this year who had been on the team last year.

He was a quiet guy, who didn’t talk much unless he had something to say, but Landry had liked him right away. Maybe because the first time they’d met, and Landry hadn’t known what to make of someone who’d been on the team the year before, Deacon had announced in a wry voice, “Don’t worry, I kicked the ass out of Taylor every chance I got. As far as I figure, it was his turn to be the punching bag for once.”

It had been clear then Deacon hadn’t liked Taylor anymore than anyone else. That the ex-Condors quarterback had been the choice of the ownership, who hadn’t cared about what kind of precedent they set as long as they won.

Then they not only hadn’t won, losing to the Piranhas in the divisional round of the playoffs, but the NFL had swooped in and, in an unprecedented move, forcibly brokered the sale of the Condors to Grant Green, a thirty-four-year-old tech billionaire who’d not only never owned a football team, had zero experience owning any sports team.

But Green had one advantage that the old Condors ownership hadn’t had: he wasn’t willing to sacrifice moral high ground to win football games.

Deacon had made it through all the house cleaning Green and the NFL had done, so Landry had expected he’d been at least a decent enough guy.

Turned out he was more than decent. He was steadfast and loyal and spoke out and up when something wasn’t right.

When Landry had wondered how he’d survived under the old ownership and all their questionable decisions, Deacon had just grinned. “It was a good thing not too many guys felt like they could take me on,” he’d said.

It was true, Landry thought as he turned towards Deacon now. The man was big, bigger even than Landry. Just as tall and built, not just like a truck, but a freaking eighteen-wheeler.

Nobody would look at Deacon Harris and think it was a good—or particularly safe—idea to confront him.

“You need help finding the weight room?” Deacon teased, nudging him on the shoulder as they headed down the hallway.

“Nope, I’m good,” Landry said with a grin.

Deacon eyed him up and down. “Well, not good, maybe, but you’re tryin’.”

Landry laughed. “Not everyone can be you, Harris.”

“Damn straight.”

They were quiet for a moment as they waited for the elevator to take them to the basement and the weight room.

“Did I see you and the new QB come in together?” Deacon asked.

“Riley Flynn,” Landry said, nodding. “Yeah, he’s stayin’ with me for a bit. I’m good friends with his older brother.”

“Aidan, right?” Deacon rocked back on his heels, considering this particular fact. “I’ve sacked him at least a dozen times. That guy’s tough to take down.”

Landry considered how many sacks he must have on quarterbacks who were easier to take down than Aidan. It was impressive, but then Deacon had been in the NFL for over ten years and had racked up some crazy stats.

“Well, maybe you can do it again when we play them in a month,” Landry said as the elevator arrived and they stepped in.

“He’s your best friend, and you still want me to annihilate him?” Deacon asked, raising an eyebrow. No judgment in his tone, but genuine curiosity instead.

Landry hit the button for the basement. “I still want to win,” he said. “Besides, Aidan’s tough. He can take it.”

“What about Riley? He tough, too?”

Landry considered this question. Deacon wasn’t normally this interested, but the fact that he asked meant something. He didn’t want just a rah-rah Go Condors answer; he wanted a real answer.

Which, actually, made a hell of a lot of sense. Because he was one of the only holdovers from the year before, Landry had gotten the impression that Deacon was personally vetting everyone they signed. If they didn’t make his cut, then they weren’t worth it.

“Tougher, actually,” Landry said.

Deacon looked surprised at that. “But he’s…” He’s smaller.

“Yeah,” Landry said. “He’s had to fight for every single fucking thing.”

“Hmmm.” Deacon rocked back on his heels again, considering Landry’s argument. “I can see it.”

“You think Aidan’s tough to bring down? Riley’s gonna be twice as tough because he’s got moves.”

Deacon raised an eyebrow. Now he looked surprised. “He does, does he?” His deep rumbling voice was amused.

Landry told himself not to blush. Ordered himself not to blush, in fact. Wasn’t quite successful. “Uh, well, yeah, you seen him play?”

“A few times,” Deacon said. He didn’t just put hours in on the weights but also in the film room. “Gonna be fun.”

“Maybe don’t make him a punching bag,” Landry said, suddenly concerned. Yes, Riley was tough mentally and tougher physically than he’d been before, but Deacon Harris was still Deacon Harris.

“He make other people punching bags?” Deacon wondered out loud, though Landry had a feeling he already knew the answer to that question because if Deacon even suspected Riley was that kind of guy, he wouldn’t currently be in the building.

“You know he doesn’t,” Landry said quietly. “He’s a good guy. A great guy.”

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. “Figured as much,” Deacon said. “He’s got nothin’ to worry about from me except me making him a better football player.”

After a quick stop at the locker room to stow his bag and change, Landry headed towards the weight room. It was half full, a lot of the other Condors players putting in their time.

When Landry finished up his workout, there was still no sign of Riley.

He joined the other wide receivers in their room for the first meeting of the day, and Carter Maxwell, their first leading wide receiver and a bit of a diva, said as he sat down, “So tell us all about this new QB, Banks. He gonna be able to throw alright, or are we gonna be spending every play protecting his ass as he runs for the first down?”

Landry rolled his eyes as he took his seat. He kind of wanted to dislike Carter, who had a high enough opinion of himself it didn’t really matter what anyone else thought, but the man was a freaking beast on the field, at least ninety percent of his ego fully deserved.

Plus, he was built a bit like Landry, so they’d already been trading tips since camp had started.

For someone who had such a healthy ego, it surprised Landry how Carter was actually willing to take suggestions.

Whether he liked it or not. Landry had always suspected he was listening, not because he wanted to, but probably because he’d been told that he needed to. And yeah, the guy had a bit of a reputation as a wild card, with an attitude and a temper to match. He’d been through three teams in three years already, and there was a possibility if he struck out with the Condors, maybe he wouldn’t be signed by another team, despite his absolutely outrageous skills.

“He can throw,” Landry insisted. “If you watched any film of him, Maxwell, you’d know the answer already.”

Carter just grinned. “Watch film? Why would I need to do that?”

Coach Oscar, their offensive coordinator, rolled his eyes as he walked into the room. “Jesus, Maxwell,” he said, “I can smell your ego a freaking mile away.”

But Carter just shrugged, like he wasn’t particularly concerned. “I can back it up,” he said.

And wasn’t that the biggest problem? Because he fucking could. It would be annoying, but Carter made the most impossible catches look easy. Landry knew they were going to win games just because he was on the roster. That certainly made swallowing his attitude a hell of a lot easier.

“Your new QB1 is meeting the media now, but he’ll be on the field for practice this afternoon,” Coach said. “Then you’ll see. Flynn can throw. Good enough for anyone, but especially good enough for you, Maxwell.”

“Excellent,” Carter said, leaning back in his chair. “He puts it up, I can catch it.”

“Let’s go over some plays,” Coach said. “As we talked about yesterday, the offense is changing to more of an RPO with the signing of Flynn.”

It would be completely stupid to try anything other than the run-pass option offense with a quarterback with skills like Riley.

“Yuck,” Carter inserted.

“That doesn’t mean we’re gonna be running the ball more. I still want to keep things sixty-forty, pass to run,” Coach said, sounding like his temper was currently being tested. And with Carter, that wasn’t much of a surprise.

Sometimes Landry thought he lived to test the temper of everyone around him.

“I don’t know why you’d want anything less than seventy percent pass with me on the field,” Carter said.

“For the love of God, shut up,” Nick Williams, another one of the receivers, said. “You’re makin’ me want to commit a felony.”

“Seriously,” Landry chimed in.

“Just offering my opinion,” Carter drawled, looking unconcerned that Nick wanted to demolish him.

“Noted,” Coach Oscar said testily.

“More than once,” Nick added.

Coach pulled some plays up on the screen then, and at least that quieted Carter for some time because he found studying film excruciatingly boring, and Landry wouldn’t have been surprised if he used the opportunity during meetings to take a nap.

If anyone could sleep with their eyes wide open, it was probably Carter Maxwell.

After going over at least twenty plays, Coach finally let them go for lunch, with practice to follow after.

The cafeteria at the practice facility was actually pretty decent, with them providing not only well-balanced and nutritious meals but tasty ones, as well. Although, would it be as delicious as what Riley had cooked him last night? Landry doubted it.

He grabbed a salad as well as a healthy serving of grilled chicken to top it and Gatorade from the drinks case and headed towards the seating area.

He found himself scanning the tables, looking for a head of blond hair and that gorgeous smile, but he didn’t find Riley anywhere.

“Lookin’ for someone in particular?” Landry glanced over and saw Jem Knight, who, other than Deacon, had been one of the few Condors players who’d been around last year.

“Uh, well…”

“Riley, huh?” Jem grinned at him. “You probably promised Aidan you’d look out for him, didn’t you?”

It was annoying being so obvious. Was his attraction written all over his face, too?

“It’s not that surprising,” Landry argued. They settled down at one of the other tables.

“Considering what I know of Aidan, not even remotely,” Jem said, digging into his own salad.

Landry had forgotten Jem had played for the Toronto Thunder before he’d come to the Condors a few years back, so he actually knew Aidan and not just by reputation.

“I didn’t think he even wanted his brother to play football,” Jem continued.

“He doesn’t,” Landry said flatly.

Deacon approached their table and slid into the seat next to Jem. “Missing your boy already?” he teased.

“Riley’s not my boy,” Landry said.

“Aidan sure wants him to be,” Jem pointed out.

“I don’t know about that,” Deacon said. “I saw you two hugging in the parking lot. And seriously, no judgment, but that didn’t seem just friendly.”

“It was,” Landry said, hating how defensive his voice had become.

“Hey, like I said, zero judgment. Then I heard in the press conference Riley gave that he was staying with a good friend. That you, Banks?”

It was impossible to deny it, even though he wanted to, for no good reason other than it would cut off Deacon’s speculation at the knees.

Why did it even matter to him if he did? There was nothing wrong if Riley was his boy, even though he most definitely was not.

“You know we don’t give a shit here, right?” Jem said. “We’re both…” Jem grinned, shooting Deacon a glance. “Very open to that, right?”

Deacon nodded.

Landry wanted to ask them both how long they’d known they didn’t care which sex they were attracted to, but honestly, he was afraid of the answer. What if they said, forever, pretty much my whole damn life? Where would that leave him?

The weirdo who hadn’t even suspected he was queer until he’d become painfully, undeniably attracted to his best friend’s little brother, that’s who.

“You know about my brothers, so you know I don’t give a shit, either,” Landry pointed out. “It’s just…it’s not like that with us. Not like that at all. He just needed a place to stay, and Aidan asked, so of course I said yes.”

“Course you did,” Deacon teased.

“Hey, you don’t know Aidan like I do,” Jem pointed out. “It’s amazing he didn’t go AWOL from Toronto just to make sure Riley’s hand was held the whole damn way to Charleston.”

“He really like that?” Deacon frowned.

“Yes,” Jem and Landry answered together.

Deacon chuckled under his breath.

“Well, don’t worry, your boy is eating lunch with Mr. G, and I’m sure he’s plenty safe with him. Now, when he gets to the field?” Jem shrugged. “All bets are off.”

“He can take it,” Landry said. “And he needs it. The experience.” He hesitated. “And you could use it, too, old man.”

Jem stared at him, but Deacon was laughing. “Oh, man, I can’t wait for this afternoon,” he said. He elbowed Jem. “Not too many can keep you on your toes like this one.”

“Need it,” Jem said with a grunt. The only acknowledgment that he was one of the oldest players on the team.

“No kidding,” Deacon teased.

The next time Landry saw Riley, it was in the locker room after lunch and another interminable round of meetings.

You weren’t worried about him, not even a little, Landry tried to tell himself, but the truth was so much more complicated. He knew Riley could hold his own. Was smart as a whip and freaking good at this, but he remembered the nerves and the vulnerability Riley had shown to him last night and this morning. Landry knew his worries were born out of just how much Riley wanted to succeed at this.

How much he wanted to be the Condors’ answer to their quarterback question.

Landry had almost managed to convince himself by the time he showed up at the locker room that the constant litany of Riley, Riley, Riley in his mind was because he wanted this for him. Nearly as much as Riley wanted it for himself.

But then he walked into the locker room, and Riley was shirtless and laughing with Carter, who was probably flirting with him, and Landry realized with a sinking feeling at the base of his stomach, attraction flaring hard and fast as he took in Riley’s chiseled stomach, chest, and arms, he wasn’t so selfless as he wanted to believe.

Because what he wanted was not just for Riley to succeed beyond his wildest dreams, but he also just plain wanted him.

Whether it was because Riley was the one guy on the planet who did it for him or because he’d apparently been bisexual this whole goddamn time and Riley was the key to unlocking that realization inside him, the sheer fucking want was undeniable.

Then Riley saw him, framed in the doorway, and the way his smile brightened, the way it deepened into something so much more genuine than whatever he’d been giving Carter, told Landry maybe he wasn’t alone in this.

“Hey,” Riley said as Landry approached. He wanted to have words with the equipment manager and also fall on his knees and thank him because Riley’s locker was right across from his own, with an absolute prime view.

“Have a good day so far?” Landry asked, pulling his pads out of his locker.

“Yeah, it’s been great. Crazy busy, but good. Got to talk to the media some. Meet with Coach Kelley and Coach Oscar. Worked on some film with Charlie. And now my absolutely favorite part of the day…practice.”

“Nobody should look this excited to get on the field and get their ass handed to them,” Carter grumbled.

“The key is not gettin’ your ass handed to you,” Landry teased. He turned to Riley. Pinned his gaze just above Riley’s shoulder. Do not look at his naked body. Absolutely do not look at his naked body. “Heard you had lunch with the big shot today.”

“Yeah,” Riley sounded excited about it. “Mr. G isn’t what I was expecting at all. But he’s nice. Really nice. Honest, too. I think he’s gonna make this team a success.”

“I liked him when I met him,” Landry said.

Riley dropped his voice and took a few steps closer after Landry pulled off his t-shirt. Tried valiantly to ignore the possibility that their bare skin might touch. “Was he…I don’t know…younger than you imagined?”

“Yeah. Way younger.”

“And way hotter, too,” Carter inserted. “Bless having a sexy young billionaire buy your team.”

Riley turned back towards his number one receiver. “You ever have a thought that isn’t basic, Maxwell?”

But Carter just grinned. “Guess I’m just a basic bitch.”

“Guess you are.” Riley rolled his eyes but also looked amused, which was generally Landry’s impression of Carter, too. God, he could be annoying, but in a way that made you want to toss him some balls, see what he could do, more than you wanted to actually punch him in the face.

“Anyway, yeah, he was nice.” There was that hope flaring in Riley’s eyes now. “Think this is gonna be a good spot for me.”

“Me, too.”

Landry turned back towards his locker to finish getting dressed. Yeah, NFL teams were more accepting these days, but it wasn’t a good look to be caught checking out their brand-new quarterback on his first day.

“See you out there,” Riley said, picking up his helmet and tossing Landry one last smile before he turned to jog onto the field.

Landry nodded, taking a sharp, deep breath as he faced his locker. It was just that all this was so goddamn new. He’d never been attracted to a guy before, and therefore, it had never intruded into football.

But it was threatening to intrude now.

“Yeaaah,” a clearly amused voice behind him called out, as Landry couldn’t stop himself from watching Riley leave. “He’s not your boy at all.”

It was Deacon again, and he was grinning.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Landry knew how defensive he sounded.

“You just keep tellin’ yourself that,” Deacon said, patting him on the shoulder and then turning to head out towards the tunnel that led to the practice field.

A few years back, the Condors’ ownership had built a new field with a retractable roof. Because while Charleston had plenty of good weather even late into the fall, being on the coast, they had a tendency towards thunderstorms, especially in the summers when nobody could afford to miss a practice just because the weather was bad.

Today the weather was excellent for August—humid and hot, yes—but not a cloud in sight.

They warmed up and stretched thoroughly with the head trainer, Max Salazar.

“This is nice,” Carter said as they lay on the grass, Landry trying to level out his breathing. It was fucking hot today, the sun shining relentlessly down onto them.

“Roasting alive?” Landry joked. It hadn’t been this hot in Buffalo, that was for damn sure.

“Getting enough time to stretch,” Carter said.

That got Landry’s attention. “You didn’t get enough time to stretch…” Right now, he couldn’t remember where Carter had played last year. All he knew was he’d made the rounds because nobody wanted to put up with his attitude in the long term.

“I was here,” Carter said. “At the end of the season. The Jets traded me here at the deadline.”

He’d totally forgotten that Carter had been here last year. Even for part of the year.

“They thought me and Taylor would be a dynamite combo,” Carter said. His voice was strangely flat.

“No?”

“No. And it was bullshit here. No time to stretch. Max was rushed through every single goddamn time,” Carter said.

That didn’t surprise Landry at all. Nobody was blabbing about what it had been like last year, but if even Carter Maxwell hadn’t liked it, that said a whole lot.

“I started showing up to practice stretched ‘cause I wasn’t risking a pulled hammy to run the routes they wanted me to run,” Carter finished as they stood up.

“Really?” That was a surprise. Not that Carter had finally been forced to be proactive, but that the Condors’ coaching staff had cared so little about their players that they’d potentially sent them out onto the field so poorly prepared.

“Yep.” Carter sounded very matter-of-fact.

“And you and Taylor?”

Carter looked at him. “You know how everyone thinks he was a serious piece of shit?”

Landry nodded. That did seem to be the unanimous opinion on the Condor’s last starting quarterback.

“He wasn’t just a piece of shit. He was the piece of shit under someone’s fucking shoe.”

“And here I thought you only gave a crap about a QB who could throw down the field.”

Carter rolled his eyes. “He’d overthrow me on purpose, the asshole. And that was just the beginning.”

Landry wanted to ask what happened after the beginning, but then Coach Oscar was yelling at them to huddle up.

Yep, they were about to run plays.

With Riley Flynn under center for the very first time.

Landry met Riley’s perfect blue eyes across the huddle, and they seemed serious. Focused. Any insecurities were gone like they’d never even existed in the first place when, in reality, he was probably freaking out under his skin.

Or maybe not, because what he seemed was steady.

Absolutely fucking rock solid.

Actually…Landry flashed back to when he’d played college ball at Michigan, and who Riley reminded him of most was…his goddamned brother.

Landry recognized it so well because Aidan had that same steely, unshakable focus.

Had Riley learned it from him, or was it just a Flynn thing?

Coach called in the play, explaining what they were doing, and then Riley glanced at each of them in turn, making sure everyone was on the same page before he clapped, breaking the huddle.

The play was one of the run-pass options Carter had mouthed off so much about hating, thinking they meant he’d get less playing time and less touches.

But what Landry knew was it was going to give all of them a better chance of doing something more with every down.

Landry took up his spot at the line, facing off against Jaden, the linebacker on the other side from Jem, and the moment the whistle blew, he took off, dodging him with a quick side step, cleat digging into the turf and turning on a dime.

Beck, the safety, crossed over far back in the zone, but he was too far back to stop him, and Landry settled into the soft middle of the coverage, his gaze taking in the play as it unfolded.

Riley had dropped back, protected by the center and the left tackle, as he dodged to the left—there was Deacon, coming in like Riley’s personal wrecking ball—but Riley had seen him coming and evaded him. For a split second, his eyes met Landry’s, and Landry didn’t need to be told any more. He shifted over and down, still running, watching as Riley led him to the ideal spot, and then Riley unloaded, tossing the most fucking perfect spiral, arcing above the rest of the field.

Landry made one last adjustment and felt the ball hit him square in the hands.

Beck was on him a second later, hand pressing to his back, letting him know he was down, without actually making the tackle.

He looked back across the practice field, and the look in Riley’s eyes was everything.

Elation. Vindication. Delight.

And something else, too.

Undeniably pleasure.

A burning certainty unfolded in Landry that even part of Riley’s pleasure was that his very first pass had been caught by him.

His fingers tightened on the ball.

You need to tell him. You need to tell him that didn’t feel like any other catch you’ve ever made. That it felt like more.

But Landry didn’t know how to do it. Not without confessing everything.

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