False Start - Jessica Ruddick Page 0,25

was a tiny but formidable woman. Growing up, we were always more afraid of her than their father, who carried a gun for his job as a police officer. Lydia had been a second mother to me. Hell, if I were honest, she was more of a mother to me than my own had been.

That reminded me that the invitation to my sister’s engagement party was sitting on my counter at home. Since I knew what it was, I hadn’t bothered opening the envelope, but I would have to deal with it eventually. When I sent my RSVP, my mother might actually take time out of her busy schedule to talk to me personally. Lucky me.

“I’m working up to it,” Roman muttered. “I didn’t want to drop that bombshell on my first visit home.” He downed the last of his beer and leaned back in the booth, crossing his arms. Though he was probably just as buzzed as I was, his calculating eyes scanned the room.

It hit me that my best friend was deadly—a trained killer—and he was about to become even more trained. Roman’s job was to protect our country, and what was mine? Playing football and trying not to flunk out of school so I could keep playing. It wasn’t that I ever thought football was important in the grand scheme of things, but it suddenly seemed even more trivial.

Becca was on her way to bettering mankind as well. As a biomedical engineer, she planned to develop artificial organs that would save lives.

All I did was catch a damn ball.

Becca’s foot nudged mine. “Are you okay?” she asked softly.

I realized I’d been staring into my beer as if I were contemplating world peace. Not world peace, just the insignificance of my existence.

Shit. I wasn’t normally an emotional drunk. Not that I was being emotional exactly. It was more like I was having an existential crisis.

Fuck. How had I gone from the high of playing well in the game to this? I didn’t like it. I didn’t consider myself shallow, but I wouldn’t call myself a deep person either. It was easier not to take life too seriously.

“I’m fine.” Very convincing, Fleck.

Becca’s beautiful mouth twisted into a frown. “Are you sure?”

I forced a smile onto my face and relaxed my shoulders. “Of course. I kicked ass in the game, and now I’m here with my two favorite people. What else could I ask for?”

My answer seemed to satisfy her because her mouth tilted upward again. God, she’s beautiful. She’d always been cute, even when we were kids, but somewhere along the line, cuteness gave way to beauty. I shouldn’t appreciate it as much as I did, especially with her brother sitting right next to her.

All of a sudden, I was extra glad he was there. His presence was just what I needed to remember that Becca might as well be my kid sister.

Except deep in my gut, I was shamefully thankful she wasn’t.

CHAPTER 7

Becca

CARSON GOT A text from Jake. Wyatt and a bunch of the players were at Bleakers in a private room.

“Bleakers?” I questioned. “Are you sure that’s right?” The last I’d heard, the bar was on the verge of closing.

True to my word, I was driving Carson’s and Roman’s drunk asses downtown. Had I thought ahead, I would have insisted on taking my car to the restaurant. Instead, I was forced to drive Carson’s new Jeep, which made me nervous as hell. He wouldn’t care if I dinged it, but I would. He’d always been spoiled when it came to material things, so he could be careless with his possessions. I, on the other hand, noticed every new little scratch on my eight-year-old Kia. It had been my parents’ gift to me when I left for college. My family wasn’t poor, but compared to Carson’s, we were downright destitute. They’d had to save to afford the car.

“Yeah,” Carson said. “They’re letting us use the room after home games. It’s a smart business move on their part. We get a little privacy, but once people figure out we’re there, the bar will get flooded.”

Downtown Bleaksburg wasn’t very big, so it was difficult for more than a handful of players to go out together. It always turned into a spectacle, and a lot of them avoided it altogether.

In the back seat, Roman laughed. “Listen to Mr. Fleck spout off his business knowledge.”

“Can’t grow up in the Fleck house without picking up something.” It might have been my imagination, but