Page 31 of Ruff and Tumble

“Go for it, buddy,” he urged the dog. “She never uses it. These days, she prefers ninja fairies.”

Philip took him at his word and pounced toward the couch. It was on the tip of Cole’s tongue to order him to stay on the floor, to avoid the curved white leather that his interior designer had insisted was the only way to sit in comfort, but he didn’t have the heart to crush Philip’s spirit.

Garrett lifted a brow but didn’t speak. He took a long, slow drink from the can in his hand instead. That deliberate action said everything his friend was thinking and more—especially when Philip turned once, pawed twice, and began liberally licking himself on the ten-thousand-dollar couch.

“Don’t you have your own house to go to?” Cole grumbled.

“I do, but Dr. Hampton wanted me to come over and check on you. And to drop off this.”

Thethisin question was a refill of prescription painkillers. Garrett pulled the orange bottle out of his pocket and set it on the kitchen counter, but Cole made no move to grab it.

“I don’t need that,” he said, eyeing it with distaste. “I still have some left from the last batch.”

“Maybe it’s a hint that you should start taking them.”

“Maybe Dr. Hampton needs a new hobby.”

Garrett nodded and slipped the bottle back into his pocket. “Reggie thought you might react that way.”

Cole couldn’t decide which was worse—his best friend and his sister sneaking into his house for a secret love affair, or his best friend and his sister sneaking into his house to discuss the state of his health, but he was leaning toward the latter.

With a sigh, he lowered himself on the couch next to Philip, who lost no time in pulling the football onto his lap and chewing it there. There was something soothing about running his hand up and down the puppy’s short fur, at how the warm body planted itself in place and stayed there.

He leaned his head on the back of the couch and closed his eyes. That felt good, too, until he felt Garrett sink onto the seat next to him.

“We won the game,” Cole said, the words coming out more gruffly than he intended. “What more do you want?”

“Me? Not much. I mean, youcouldoffer to feed me lunch now that I’ve come all this way, but…”

Cole laughed. “Feed your damn self. I’m not running a hotel over here.” He opened one eye and rolled it toward his friend. “Am I?”

Garrett shook his head. “Nah. It’s not like that with me and Reggie.”

Cole released a disbelieving chuff of air. There had been a time, before Mia was born, when Garrett would have given both his thumbs for a shot with Regina. “You’re adults. What happens between the two of you is no concern of mine.”

The moment stretched a few seconds too long. Although Cole tried to distract himself with the puppy, he felt a compulsive need to fill the silence. “It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to,” he said, rolling his shoulder in a slight shrug. It wasn’t a complete lie—the regular work with Aiko was building up his strength, and he really only needed the painkillers to get through game day.

That was another thing that didn’t make him unique within the world of professional football. Lots of guys were being held together by sports tape and opiates, by their determination to win no matter what the cost. For Cole, with his one tiny labral tear, to bitch and moan and act like he was the only man in the world who was suffering was ridiculous. Even the little puppy in his lap had gone through more in his short lifetime.

Hailey had been right about that, too.Realtrauma, the kind that dug deep and imprinted hard, was something Cole had never known. There were too many people who cared about him, too many places he could go to seek shelter when things got rough. He had no right to whine when he had so much—when he’d beengivenso much.

“If I leave, are you going to sit here all day, petting your puppy and looking depressed?” Garrett asked as if reading his mind.

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to leave anyway?”

“Yes.”

Garrett laughed. “Don’t worry. I can take a hint when it’s being shoved down my throat. I don’t know why you have to be such a fucking drama queen all the time, Bennett. It’s only football.”

Cole grunted a noncommittal reply, glad but not glad to see his friend go. The thing Garrett didn’t understand—the thing that no one could understand—was thatonly footballwasn’t a term that belonged in his vocabulary. Not when it supported his grandmother and parents and sister and niece, keeping them in comfortable homes and financial security. Not when they’d spent their whole lives sacrificing everything so he could have a chance at greatness.

“What if I don’t want to be great?” he asked Philip, whose only response was a happy loll of his tongue. Cole made sure the door had closed and clicked behind Garrett before adding, more softly this time, “What if all I want is to be me?”

Chapter 9

It was just like a football player with the whole world at his feet to underestimate the amount of work required in critiquing, cataloging, and ranking fifty puppies located in different shelters across the Pacific Northwest.