A harsh sigh crested out from him, and his hand clenched on the door he was about to close. “There has to be something. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have left like that.”
Before she could muster a thought—even process what he’d said—he was striding across the yard in the moonlight to that bridge he’d built, the one he hoped would bring them back together. Their sweet little dog pranced behind him.
She sank down into the middle of the kitchen, the smell of truffle fries still strong and sweet in the air. He thought he’d done something wrong?
Of all the hurts she’d borne, that one she could not abide.
Chapter 11
Sam Garretty had a knack for knowing what Blake needed, so it didn’t surprise him when his friend arrived two hours ahead of the rest of the guys on Saturday morning. He bear-hugged him at the door and clapped him on the back. Emotion squeezed his throat as he realized he’d never again play against Sam on the football field or hug him after a cutthroat game, regardless of which team won. God, he was going to miss that.
“Are you here to mother me?” he asked when they broke apart.
“Heck, I only mother my rookies. You’re way too old for that.” When Touchdown barked, Sam reached down to pet the dog. Though it was technically Natalie’s turn to watch him again, she was busy seeing to the lunch she would be serving them later.
When his friend straightened, they stood there smiling at each other like idiots for a moment.
“It’s good to see you, man.”
Sam gave his shoulder a slight shove. “You too.” He picked up his leather satchel and strolled inside after Blake and Touchdown. “Well, at least you’re not living in a hovel.”
“This house might be smaller than the one in Denver, but it’s still nice. Come on. I’ll show you where you can put your stuff.”
He led him upstairs and down the hallway to one of the three guest bedrooms. A few of the guys had said they didn’t mind sleeping on king blow-up beds in the basement. Grant had made him laugh by offering to sleep with him in his massive California King since he must be lonely out in the big bad woods.
“Jordan was upset to hear you won’t be bunking together,” he told Sam.
“Good. I hope you stuck him with Zack. That guy’s hair has gotten downright raggedy. I’m sure Mr. Dean can help him on that score.” He laughed and threw his satchel on the bed. “By the way, Jordan says he’s found the best Smuck award ever.”
Every time they got together, the last “winner” chose the next competition and the outfit for the new one. One time the game had involved how many marbles they could pick up in sixty seconds with their toes. Logan had “won” that one since he had the smallest feet. The “winner” had the honor of wearing knee-socks with fur on them. Hunter had picked them out, and everyone joked they must have belonged to one of his many exes. Another time, Zack had found some hideous hat with its own black light with the words Alien Abduction Imminent printed across the front.
The Smuck had to wear the piece-de-resistance in question for the duration of their time together, including whenever they went out in public. So far Blake hadn’t “won,” but they ganged up on him every time, hoping to make him a full member of the Smuck Club. And with Jordan as the most recent “winner,” he knew the QB was going to come at him hard.
“I’ve never ‘won’ the Smuck award,” he said, preening like a peacock, “so I’m not concerned.”
“You might be off your game this time,” Sam said, following Blake back to the kitchen as Touchdown raced ahead to his water bowl.
“How about I whip us up a Blake juice special, and we can chill on the deck?”
“Sounds good,” Sam said, resting his hip against the island. “So, how are things going?”
Blake opened the refrigerator and took out some organic apples, carrots, and pears. His mega-juicer would make short work of them. He dug into a cabinet and pulled out some chia seeds and maca powder to add to the drinks when he finished juicing.
“A local school board member asked Natalie’s mom to see if I’d be their new football coach,” he said in a neutral tone. It was the only offer that interested him right now, so it was the only one worth mentioning.
Sam scratched his cheek. “I can see their logic. Everyone outside the league thinks that if you played, you could probably coach.”
“We both know that’s not true. A football camp isn’t coaching.” And wasn’t that what concerned him? If he took this on, he didn’t want to let those kids down. They would want to win. Heck, he would want to win. It’s what he did.
“Doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea though.”