Time of Possession (Seattle Lumberjacks #5) (23 page)

Estie rubbed her stomach, but the motion did
nothing to dislodge the lump in the pit of her belly or the guilt
weighing her down.

“Brett, I don’t know where I fit in your
life either. We’re on separate paths, and we came together for a
brief moment, like a shooting star that burns bright.”

“Then sizzles out in the atmosphere to
become nothing? Is that what you’re saying?”

“No, not at all. You and I will never be
nothing.
No matter what happens to us, you’ll always be
special to me.” Oh, God, this sounded like a break-up speech. She
didn’t want to go there, not now.

“You’re the first woman I’ve ever been in
love with, Estie. Did you realize that?” He grasped her hands
tightly, turning sideways so he faced her on the loveseat. Marilyn
chose this time to lay her head on their intertwined hands, but
they both ignored her.

“One day at a time.” Estie fought off the
sobs threatening to choke her. She didn’t deserve this man’s
devotion or his loyalty or least of all his love.

Brett nodded and hugged her. Estie clung to
him and fought her inclination to let him take care of her. She
couldn’t do that. Not this time. This time was different. This time
she’d make good, sound decisions based on what she wanted, not what
everyone else thought was best for her, even Brett.

Chapter 13

The next morning Brett was back at it without
taking one day off. In fact, he patted himself on the back for
beating Harris to the practice facility. After working out, he
sprawled in a chair and watched film from yesterday’s game. About
an hour later, Harris walked in.

Brett ignored the man. He didn’t want to
talk about Estie, but Harris wasn’t known for his tact or for
keeping his trap shut. There was so much running through his mind.
Estie Harris might be his forever love, but their paths seemed to
be careening in opposite directions, and she did love her plans. As
she focused on getting her life organized and redirected, he felt
her pull back from him. A little more each day. While he applauded
her strength and determination to make the right decisions for her,
he didn’t want to be shut out of her future plans. In fact, the
mere thought made him sick to his stomach. He was a freaking wuss
when it came to this woman.

Brett sighed and re-ran the film, having
missed the entire play. Harris dropped into the seat next to him
with a heavy thud. Brett kept his eyes straight ahead, even as
Harris fidgeted in the seat next to him. The guy never fidgeted, so
that in itself was fucking weird.

Harris cleared his throat. “You ran that
play perfectly. I couldn’t have done it any better myself.”

“Derek made a helluva catch.” Brett gave
credit where credit was due, but a satisfied smile tugged at the
corners of his mouth as he watched Derek streak into the end zone
after a fifty-plus-yard pass play.

“He can make that catch with his eyes shut
if the pass is right on the money. You put it right on the
money.”

Brett shrugged one shoulder. He could feel
Harris’s gaze dissecting his every weakness and more, like maybe
whether or not Brett made good brother-in-law material. Brett could
only wish.

“You’re good. Really good. You just needed
your shot.” High praise coming from Harris.

“Thanks.” Brett felt his face heat up.

Those piercing blue eyes sliced into him
with expert accuracy. “So what’s your plan, Gun? Where are you
going after this season?”

“Ideally, to a starting job somewhere.”

“Miami has the best team without a decent
quarterback. They’ll be looking closely at you.”

“I know.” Did he ever. He also knew that the
nearest vet school was too far away for Estie to commute, if he got
lucky enough for her to go with him.

“You don’t sound thrilled about that. It’d
be a great opportunity for you.”

“I know.” Brett kept a neutral tone, but
Harris’s eyes narrowed like a hunter sensing the nearness of his
prey.

“Don’t let this thing with my sister fuck up
your future.” Tyler’s chin jutted out with that stubborn-assed
scowl that spelled trouble for the guy on the receiving end.

“What?” Brett played dumb, but Estie’s
brother wasn’t buying it for one fucking second.

Harris rolled his eyes. “I couldn’t stand
Richard, but he’s been around in some form or another since our
college days. He’s like a sliver that you miss after you pull it
out.”

“Never had that experience.”

“Let me give a word of unsolicited advice. I
like you, Gun, and I don’t like too many people. My sister isn’t
right for you.”

Brett opened his mouth to protest and Harris
held up a hand to silence him.

“Hear me out. It’s not that I wouldn’t like
you two together. In fact, I’d prefer it, but I know her. She has
to have control or the appearance of it. You don’t strike me as a
guy who is easily controlled. I swear to God she plans when she’s
going to the bathroom each day.”

“I appreciate the warning, but I’m a big
boy.” Brett rubbed the back if his neck, but the motion did nothing
to alleviate the tension.

“I know, but you’ve never dealt with a
situation like this one. I love my sister, but I wouldn’t wish her
on my best friend. Stay clear of her, Gun. You have two games to
win. Two games to show the NFL that you’re more than your height.
You don’t need her screwing with your head when you’re going after
something as mentally and physically tough as a Super Bowl.”

“I’ll be ready. Don’t worry about me.” Brett
made the mistake of meeting Harris’s direct gaze.

“I do worry about you, and I worry about my
sister. Her steering has gone out and she’s grasping for something
to stabilize her. You happen to be handy, and she’s on the rebound.
Once she gets a new direction mapped out, not even hell will stand
in her way and especially not a mortal man. You’d be a dumbshit not
to take that into consideration.”

“Thanks. I will.” He met Tyler’s eyes. “I
think we have something special, like you and Lavender.”

Harris’s eyebrows rose to his hairline. “You
just keep that fantasy, buddy.” Harris nodded and snatched the
remote from Brett’s hand, running it back several plays and
nitpicking every move Brett made. Just like always. And right now
Brett needed that familiarity.

Later, he’d digest Harris’s words and decide
how much truth there might be in them.

Unfortunately, he believed there might be a
lot.

* * * * *

Estie paced near the door waiting for Brett
to pull up. He’d called her several minutes ago on his way home
from Jacks HQ, and her patience was razor thin. Even as a kid on
Christmas day, she couldn’t stand disorganization and wanted
presents neatly unwrapped in order of size, while her sister and
brother woke up early and ripped into them. Only this wasn’t about
unwrapping gifts—well, not exactly—and she sure as hell hoped her
surprise didn’t backfire. A very large, slobbering surprise.

As he walked up the front steps she threw
the door open for him, even as she glanced back at the large Great
Dane laying by himself in the kitchen, head in his paws, looking
more depressed than a well-fed animal had a right to be.

“Hey.” Brett pulled Estie to him and kissed
her soundly. “I missed you.”

Estie smiled at him, even though it felt
forced. Maybe springing the dog on him was a really bad idea with
even worse timing. “I missed you, too.”

“Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!”

“Looks like Bongo missed me also.”

Estie laughed. “Hard to say with Bongo.”

Marilyn pushed at his hand with her nose,
and he reached down to pat her while Risky waited for his turn, and
the cats, being cats, ignored him because cats did not grovel like
mere dogs for attention. Brett’s easy grin slipped from his face
when he caught sight of the extra dog in the house. He pushed past
the animals vying for his attention and knelt in front of
Humphrey.

“Hey, buddy. Who are you?”

“This is Humphrey. The big guy I was telling
you about whose daddy is in the Middle East.”

“The one you want me to foster.” Brett
stroked the dog’s head, and Humphrey thumped his tail on the floor
a few times, which was incredible in itself. He sighed and stood.
“Estie, I don’t have time for the animals I have, let alone another
one.”

“I’ll take care of him when you’re not
here.”

“I’m never here, except to sleep.” He kept
frowning, even as she could see him soften toward the dog.

“I know but in a month that’ll change.”

“It’d better be a month. If it’s not, we
didn’t make it.”

Estie brought a hand up to his cheek and ran
a finger across his stubble. “You look tired.”

“I am tired, but there’s no time to rest.
Not until this is done.”

“I understand.” She leaned into him, wrapped
her arms around his waist, and laid her head on his shoulder.

Brett threaded his fingers through her hair.
“I know you do. That’s what makes you unique. A lot of women
couldn’t tolerate the time a guy puts into football. Not like you
do.”

“Don’t put me on a pedestal, Brett. I don’t
deserve it. Lots of women do just fine with football husbands and
boyfriends. Look at Lavender, Kelsie, Rachel, and Mac. They’re
thriving. I’m nothing special. I’ve really only dealt with this for
less than a month.”

He pulled back slightly, hands on her
shoulders, and searched her face. “Could you handle it for
longer?”

“Brett, I just got out of one serious
relationship and the trauma of losing my career. I want this to be
more than a rebound.”

“It is.” He rested his chin on her forehead,
as she buried her face in his chest.

She pulled back to look him in the eye. “I
want it to be, but maybe we should slow down a little.” Estie
watched his face fall and felt like a bitch. She couldn’t let him
make the wrong decisions based on where he thought their
relationship might be going. It wouldn’t be fair to him. She’d
already messed with one guy; she couldn’t mess with Brett like
that. He might be tough on the football field or on a battlefield,
but when it came to love, he was too vulnerable.

“What does slowing down entail? Not sleeping
together?” He put a finger on her chin and lifted her face.

“Hell no!” She shook her head back and forth
and planted a wet kiss on his lips.

Relief crossed his features, and he laughed.
Estie laughed back. “I know I’m not making sense to you. Hell, I’m
not even making sense to myself right now.”

“We don’t need to make sense of anything
right now, just walk this path and enjoy the scenery.”

“I love your scenery,” Estie slid a hand
between his legs and stroked that unmistakable bulge.

“Not now, Estie. We have to talk.” Brett
caught her hands in his and held them away from his body. “Your
brother asked about us.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Not much, but he figured it out. Gave me a
lecture.”

“What kind of lecture?”

“About how I need to follow my dreams and
not let you influence them.”

There was more to it than that, she could
tell, but Brett wasn’t talking. Estie could guess, though. She knew
her brother. He thought she was obsessive and controlling, and he’d
be warning Brett off because nothing came between Tyler and his
football team’s success, not even his sister.

“Has he always been like that?”

“Like what? Bossy? Obnoxious? Overbearing?
Controlling? Fiercely loyal? Driven? Yes, to every one of those and
more.” Estie shook her head. “He’s an original, that’s for
sure.”

“Good thing. I doubt we could survive if he
was a twin.”

“God forbid. You probably haven’t been
around Freddie much, but she’s even worse. She scares the crap out
of Tyler.”

“Yeah, I remember him mentioning something
like that.”

“Trust me. It’s true.” Estie had managed to
deflect the conversation from her and Brett’s future to her sister
through a little diversion tactic, and she had another one up her
sleeve in case Mr. Gunnels tried to broach the subject again. It
was called getting naked. But first, the other way to a man’s
heart: “Dinner’s ready.”

“I can tell. Smells awesome.”

“Pot roast, been in the slow cooker all
day.”

They sat down to eat like an old married
couple, and Estie enjoyed every minute of it, even though a small
voice nagged at her that this was all just a fantasy that would
blow up in her face given enough time. Everything she’d ever really
wanted ended up in a crumpled heap of broken dreams and smashed
promises.

Only this time would be different. This
Estie would make new plans, better plans. She still wasn’t sure
whether Brett would be part of her new life or a sad memory marking
the end of her old life.

* * * * *

The Friday night before the NFC championship,
Brett sat in the film room well past midnight. Even Harris had
skated out a few hours ago. Brett’s butt had long fallen asleep, a
thousand needles pricked his eyes, and his lids kept drifting shut.
He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus. The door opened, and he
glanced over his shoulder.

HughJack, the Jacks’ fiery young coach stood
in the doorway. “Time to call it a night, Gun.”

Brett looked at his watch, which showed
close to one a.m. Estie would be in bed by now. “I’m about to. Just
want to run through a few more plays first.” He turned his
attention back to the screen, fully expecting HughJack to head out
for the night.

Instead of leaving the room, the coach sank
into the chair next to him. In all the years he’d been a backup
with the Jacks, Brett couldn’t recall more than a handful of
one-on-one conversations with the head coach. HughJack always
ripped around like a hummingbird on crack and seldom lit anywhere
for very long. Since Brett usually didn’t figure in with the
starters, they spent very little time together.