Page 19 of First Down Promise

A dating app.

I suck in a breath, scratching the scruff along my jawline to hide my reaction. “Hey, Pete. Actually, I do want to see that MLS you were talking about earlier,” I say.

The last thing Pete needs is another property, but Dane put it into his head that he needed to diversify his investments. Naturally, Pete heard vacation house. He rolls his eyes and sets his nearly empty gallon water bottle down after taking a sip.

“Now you want to?” he challenges, and I nod. “Fine. I’ll grab my laptop.” He turns down the hallway toward his home office, and I know I only have a minute with Abby.

“What are you doing?” I ask quietly.

Her gray eyes quickly flash to mine, and her cheeks turn a little rosier. “What?”

“That app. I saw it,” I reply, keeping my voice low.

Abby rolls her eyes like Pete just did. “Ugh, God forbid a girl tries to date someone,” she snaps but also stays hushed.

“What?” I ask before I can help it. “What’s with the sass, Ab?”

“Don’t act like you care about my dating life now, Joshua.”

Using my full name catches me off guard, as only my mother ever called me that. I stare at her with my mouth slightly ajar while I collect myself. I lean back in my barstool, making it creak with my weight, and tilt my head back to make sure Pete isn’t returning yet. I straighten again to face her and rest my elbows on the cool countertop as I scramble to come up with something.

“It’s not safe. You’re the sister of one of the most well-known QBs in the country. Don’t meet some random fucking dude online,” I say quickly. “Look, if you’re so eager to date…” I trail off, and her lips part, waiting for my suggestion. Fuck, she looks like she wants to be kissed so damn bad, but I force my eyes back to hers instead of dwelling. “I can set you up. I have other friends.”

She scrunches up her face and puts her phone down. “A blind date? Really?”

“Yeah. It’s safer. Delete your account and uninstall that. Now,” I order. “You don’t want to get hurt.”

She nods just as Pete returns with his laptop and sets it in front of me, a waterfront property on the screen.

“I’m going to bed,” Abby says, delicately peeling the eye masks from her skin.

“Night, sis,” Pete replies.

“Night, Ab.” She sighs and brushes past me toward the stairs. I turn my neck to glance at her before she can take the first step. “Don’t forget what I said,” I warn. She holds my gaze and nods again after a beat before going upstairs to her room.

“Forget what?” Pete asks as her steps grow quieter.

“Just gave her some advice about the squad,” I lie.

He nods and proceeds to tell me all about this place in Miami.

Abby’s dating and sex life have never been a topic of discussion with Pete, and despite the hookups I know he’s had over the past couple of years, I think he believes Abby is asexual. I’ve spent many weekend evenings here, and she’s never gone out. Surely she’s had crushes and maybe guys she’s flirted with. Has she flirted with Coop or Dane?

Something sours inside me. She wasn’t the type to flirt with her brother’s friends, and after years of knowing Dane, he wouldn’t touch Abby with a ten-foot pole. Because he’s smart. Unlike me and Coop. But I never got the vibe from her that she thought Coop was attractive. Which leaves me. And for fuck’s sake, why wouldn’t she like me? Do I like her? Am I suddenly in high school again?

My eyes widen at Pete’s computer screen.

That’s a scary thought. She was in what? Fourth grade when I was a senior? I suppose eight years doesn’t matter as much the older you get. Dane’s mom was fifteen years younger than his dad, though his dad was forty-five when Dane showed up. And I had a fling with a twenty-three-year-old model last spring. She wasn’t much older than Ab. Did it bother Abby that I was with her?

“Dude?” Pete asks.

My eyes focus on the pictures as he clicks through them. He only wants to buy in Miami because the who’s who of the influencer and model world is moving there. The property values show the demand, and Dane would tell Pete he was an idiot for overpaying in a seller’s market.

It’s not often I choose to tune out Pete, but right now, I’m just hyperaware of every little sound in the house. The house is large but open-concept and echoes without background noise. Abby is usually so quiet that sometimes we forget she’s here, and tonight is no exception.

And damn it, she said she was going to bed. I have no reason to go upstairs now and make sure she listened. So, I hope she did.

Truly, I’m not being unreasonable. She’s petite, for one, with no distinctive marks like tattoos. Abby may not feel known, but she is. There are some sick fuckers out there, and I’d never forgive myself if something happened to her. Or if she met someone.