I Wish You Were Mine (Oxford #2)

“You’re an idiot,” Cole said as he shoved past Jackson and made his way to Jackson’s fridge. “I’m having one of your beers. Pen?”

“Nah, I’m good,” she said. She touched Jackson’s forearm briefly as he shut the front door. “You okay?”

He glanced down at her big brown eyes, which were almost always smiling. But not now.

“Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you let a girl you’re obviously crazy about walk away?”

He froze. “How the hell—”

Cole shook his head as he popped the cap off the beer. “Don’t even question it, man. You’re one of us now. No more secrets.”

One of us. Jackson felt a surge of happiness, until he remembered that Cole was dead wrong. He wasn’t one of them. He was a Redhawk. He was…

Fuck. He didn’t know what he was.

“Mollie called Riley,” Penelope explained. “And Riley called—”

“Everyone,” Cole finished.

Penelope shrugged. “Pretty much.”

“Are you shitting me, Burke? You’re leaving us?” Cole said.

Jackson met the other man’s eyes. He was braced to see anger, but instead saw confused disappointment, and that was worse. So much worse.

“I want my life back,” Jackson said.

“Right,” Cole said. “And what is it that you’ve been doing for the past few months? Just a vacation?”

“No, it’s just…I don’t belong here,” he said a little desperately. “Surely you guys must see that?”

Penelope pursed her lips and shook her head. “Not really.”

Jackson’s eyes dropped to the enormous duffle bag on her shoulder. “Moving in?”

She gave the bag a pat. “More like helping Mollie move out.”

His heart twisted. “How is she?”

She gave him a look as though to say, How do you think she is? before pointing down the hall. “Her room’s this way?”

He wanted to rip the bag off Penelope’s shoulder and throw it out the window. Instead he forced himself to nod. “Last door on the right.”

Penelope started to head that way.

“Where is she staying?” he asked, unable to stop himself. “Is she okay?”

“Riley and Sam have her in their guest room,” Penelope said without looking back. “I’m just picking up some of her essentials until she can find a time to come by and pack up.”

“But is she okay?” Jackson repeated quietly, mostly to himself, when Penelope didn’t answer that part of his question.

“Burke, of course she’s not okay,” Cole said. “She found out that you were moving to Texas from her sister.”

Jackson winced. “Wow, so when you said you guys know everything, you really know everything.”

Cole made himself at home in Jackson’s living room, sprawling on the couch and gesturing with his beer to a chair. “Sit.”

Jackson ignored him as he went to the fridge for a beer of his own. It was as good a day to day drink as any.

“Sit,” Cole barked, more emphatically this time.

Jackson glared but found himself complying. “Are we going to talk about my report card, Dad?”

“You’d better hope not, because you’re failing across the board, Burke.”

Jackson’s temper spiked. “What the hell, dude? You’re the biggest sports fan there is. Surely you can understand why I need to—”

“Is this about your ex-wife?”

Jackson stared. “What?”

“This move back to Texas. You looking to get back with Madeline?”

Jackson didn’t even correct Cole on Madison’s name. Didn’t care enough.

“Shit, man, you think I’m going back for her? Is that what Mollie thinks?”

Cole leaned forward. “I almost wish you were, Burke. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the woman sounds like a shrew, but at least then you’d be going back for a person.”

Jackson took a sip of beer and stayed silent.

Cole shook his head. “You’re right about me being the biggest sports fan there is, but even I know that football is just a game.”

“It wasn’t for me,” Jackson said. “Football is everything.”

Cole sat back again. “That’s the most messed-up thing I’ve ever heard. Pardon the cliché, but does football keep you warm at night? Does football suck—” He glanced down the hall in the direction Penelope had gone and wisely decided not to finish that sentence. He ran a hand over his face. “I know you had a pretty sweet-ass thing going on for a long time, man. Being a pro quarterback with a handful of Super Bowl rings is every little boy’s fantasy. But you can’t get that back.”

Jackson remained stubbornly silent.

“Cassidy’s dropping your story,” Cole said after a few tense moments.

Jackson’s beer froze on its way to his lips. “What?”

“The story Pen and I were going to do on you. He’s pulling it.”

“What the hell?” Jackson said, stunned. “All this because he’s pissed?”

Cole glared. “Give the man some credit. It’s not personal.”

“The hell it’s not! Up until he found out I was moving, he was hot for that story!”