Returning Your Love E-Book

Burke Lynn

• Herausgeber: Lynn Burke
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2025

Beschreibung

Career-ending injury.
The most dream-crushing words I’ve ever heard. Goodbye NFL’s Rookie of the Year title I fought for since I was a kid, hello return to my small-town origins and wallow in unrequited love. Seeing my best friend Chaz married and trying for a baby will hurt worse than any torn ACL.
But things have changed since I escaped Pippen Creek—Chaz flounders beneath financial burdens and emotional turmoil instead of living his happily ever after.
Friendship takes precedence over longing, and I gladly take on the roles of comforter and supporter since those who have the right to love him out loud only see his failures. However, the more time I spend with Chaz, the harder it is to hide my feelings.
In a moment of mutual weakness, unexpected passion ignites.
Secret betrayal is a poisonous infection, but a twist of fate uncovers even more truths that further wound us both.
Will forgiveness allow us to survive traumatic grief and overcome guilt? Or will too much honesty end the other dream of always that has owned my heart since childhood?

Leseprobe

Returning Your Love

Pippen Creek 1

Lynn Burke

Copyright © 2025 by Lynn Burke

All rights reserved.

Editor: Katherine McIntyre

Proof Reader: Deborah Peach

Cover Artist: Golden Czermak / FuriousFotog

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book is copyright. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review or article, without written permission from the author.

No generative ai has knowingly been used in the writing of this book or the creation of its cover. No part of this book may be used as data for ‘training’ any large language model or as part of any machine learning or neural network architecture.

Visit Lynn’s website at www.authorlynnburke.com for a comprehensive list of titles, free reads, trope guide, and printable reading list.

Contents

1. Jamie

2. Chaz

3. Jamie

4. Chaz

5. Jamie

6. Chaz

7. Jamie

8. Chaz

9. Jamie

10. Chaz

11. Jamie

12. Chaz

13. Jamie

14. Chaz

15. Jamie

16. Chaz

17. Jamie

18. Chaz

19. Jamie

20. Chaz

21. Jamie

22. Chaz

23. Jamie

24. Chaz

25. Jamie

26. Chaz

27. Jamie

28. Chaz

29. Jamie

30. Chaz

31. Jamie

32. Chaz

33. Jamie

34. Chaz

Epilogue

Bonus Material

A Letter From Lynn

About the Author

Also By Lynn Burke

Returning Your Love

Career-ending injury.

The most dream-crushing words I’ve ever heard. Goodbye NFL’s Rookie of the Year title I fought for since I was a kid, hello return to my small-town origins and wallow in unrequited love. Seeing my best friend Chaz married and trying for a baby will hurt worse than any torn ACL.

But things have changed since I escaped Pippen Creek—Chaz flounders beneath financial burdens and emotional turmoil instead of living his happily ever after.

Friendship takes precedence over longing, and I gladly take on the roles of comforter and supporter since those who have the right to love him out loud only see his failures. However, the more time I spend with Chaz, the harder it is to hide my feelings.

In a moment of mutual weakness, unexpected passion ignites.

Secret betrayal is a poisonous infection, but a twist of fate uncovers even more truths that further wound us both.

Will forgiveness allow us to survive traumatic grief and overcome guilt? Or will too much honesty end the other dream of always that has owned my heart since childhood?

Chapter1

Jamie

Career-ending injury.

Three words no one wanted to hear, especially a rising football star who’d been dreaming since childhood about making it into the NFL.

“Doing okay, kid?”

I cracked an eyelid open.

Dad sat on the chair beside my hospital bed, his eyebrows pinched and lips in a thin line. His wide shoulders were hunched, evidence of his weariness.

Rain slashed against the gray window behind him, the flashes of lightning attempting to brighten the early morning sky that was as dismal as my mood.

“This fucking sucks,” I muttered, glancing down at the IV needle stuck into my arm, ready for the meds that would knock me out before going under the knife. A quaint little rest where nothing mattered and I would wake once more to the heaviness clinging to me like a weighted blanket on a hot summer night.

I huffed a sigh and turned my focus on the bright, white ceiling above me, the scent of bleach and lemon cleaner burning my nose.

Week ten of my rookie season with Houston started with the expectation I would hit one thousand rushing yards while going head-to-head with New England. Shit had been on my side until I got tackled out of nowhere, my body spinning but right foot planted firm in grass and dirt as I went down. The pop in my knee had sounded like a gunshot, leaving me with a combined ACL and meniscal tear—the worst my attending surgeon had ever seen.

So much for being Offensive Rookie of the Year or making it into the Hall of Fame. And I could kiss the rest of my contract worth millions goodbye too.

Desolation stifled, and there would be no easy tossing aside its weight.

A code blue crackled through the speaker right outside my cubicle in pre-surgery, but I couldn’t find concern for someone else’s pain or grief. Therapy hovered on the horizon along with the physical type because I would spiral into despair if I didn’t. I had grit as Dad would say, but this devastation?

Soothing a weary hand over my face and scruffy jaw, I emptied my lungs with a defeated grunt when I should have been hungover from celebrating our tenth win of the season. “My teammates crushed the Pats last night, but I’m really struggling to believe my playing days are officially over, Dad.”

He squeezed my forearm, an offering of reassurance I wished could do more to comfort me. “I won’t bullshit.”

I snorted. Typical Dad telling it like it is. “Thanks for flying down here though. Means a lot.”

A brief nod dipped his head, his tired hazel eyes tracking over my face as though he was trying to root out how I dealt with this blow. His missing out on the NFL had been due to knocking up his girlfriend in high school, but he’d never once blamed me. He’d also never pushed his own dreams and expectations on me like some dads did, but his constant support had kept me fighting.

“I can’t imagine it was easy getting off work,” I said, more thankful than ever to have him as a role model growing up. Lots of kids weren’t as lucky.

“I’m the chief. I can do whatever the hell I want,” Dad said with a small smirk. “Seriously, though, we’re still short on help, but nothing would keep me from being here for you.”

“Never considered something like this to bring you halfway across the country.”

“We Foresters tend to see the light and not expect the worst.” Dad spoke what used to be true. He’d always been a pretty positive guy, but that didn’t allow for sugarcoating shit. I’d been that way too until my mom abandoned us. Expecting the worst came second nature now.

Mom—aka Darla—had left us both when I was fourteen. Even worse, Dad hadn’t known about the shit she’d been up to behind his back. The fraudulent checks. Maxing credit cards and not paying them. Siphoning money from the fundraisers she’d been in charge of as Pippen Creek’s Chief of Police’s other half.

She’d been a great wife and mom.

Until she wasn’t.

Dad and I had gotten super close after she’d gone, and I felt confident in the one parent in my corner who supported me no matter what.

“What the hell am I gonna do now, Dad?”

“At least you stuck to college and got your degree. I’m sure you’ll find work back home.”

The sticks of northern New Hampshire was the place I’d escaped from, and I wasn’t too excited to head there again. It’d been years since I’d set foot in Pippen Creek and for good reason. The people in my small town hadn’t ever been homophobic, but wariness had kept my mouth shut about my sexuality. I hadn’t even told my best friend Chaz because queer dudes didn’t step foot on a football field, and I’d had big plans since grade school and the talent to achieve them.

I had wanted a new start outside my hometown. To pave a path toward a winning season. Make a name for myself before retiring and figure out how to enjoy life off the gridiron because that was where most of my joy came from. While I’d managed to tick off that first goal of leaving no-man’s land, everything else had gotten tipped off a cliff where jagged rocks had shattered my dreams.

Someone pushing a clanging medical cart strode past the curtain that blocked me off from the rest of the patients waiting to be sliced open.

“Coach Bernard has been talking about retiring for over a decade.” Dad shifted on his hardback chair, rubbing a roughened hand over his gray-speckled beard. “Maybe your return will be the encouragement he needs to visit Arizona like he’s been dreaming of for half of forever.”

Go back home to coach high school football. Could my life be any more cliche?

I grimaced rather than snorting.

No fucking way my happily ever after would come about like a goddamn Hallmark movie. A marriage had taken place four years ago that ensured my lifelong heartache and loneliness.

“Yeah, we’ll see, Dad,” I said noncommittally. “Right now, I need to focus on healing. Probably gonna sell my condo down here and move back to Boston though. I at least have a few friends up there.”

Hell, not a single Houston teammate had reached out to me since last night’s win to see how I was doing. Coach and the head trainer had called for an update, but that was it. Guess no one cared their star running back was gone for good.

Life went on, right?

Dad squeezed my forearm again as my eyes slid closed against reality. “Hang in there, kid. This shit sucks, but you’ll come out stronger on the other side.”

I appreciated his words of encouragement, but they did fuck-all to make me feel any better.

“Jamie Forester?”

A dude in scrubs and cap over his brown hair rounded the curtain with a smile on his face.

It’s go time—I’ve got this.

* * *

My Boston apartment window was cracked open, the cool evening air like a kiss on my bare skin. I sprawled naked as usual on my couch, bored with my unemployment, missing football, and horny as fuck.

As expected, surgery hadn’t done jack toward getting me back on the field, but at least I could walk around with a barely noticeable limp and had finally been given the green light for heavier lifting. It’d been a long-as-fuck five months full of agonizing stretching, physical therapy, and sitting with a shrink to keep me from spiraling. Regardless of hours spent with my therapist, I still hadn’t figured out what to do with myself because nothing compared to rushing into the end zone.

I’d been celibate for a goddamned year too, and there was no one around I was comfortable enough with to help ease the restlessness brewing in my balls I toyed with.

Since my NFL career had been shot to shit, I at least didn’t have to keep my sexuality to myself. I wouldn’t call it a silver lining though. No matter how badly I needed to get laid, I couldn’t stomach a quickie with a random off Grindr. That shit just wasn’t for me. I needed some sort of connection before sharing my body.

Back in college when I’d been in the closet and desperate to get laid, I’d gone to crazy lengths to be able to afford the action I needed. I opened a faceless OnlyFans account, and with my body unmarked by tattoos, no one had known the muscled jock’s real name. I’d never done a collaboration and had quadruple-checked to make sure my live backgrounds and pre-recorded videos were clean as a whistle as far as telltale giveaways of where I lived before uploading them for salivating fans.

Jerking off and playing with my hole online had afforded me the financial ability to book with Elite Escorts MM. Not only did they ensure confidentiality, but I was also a paying client, which meant I had time to connect with someone before getting dicked down.

The second I’d laid eyes on the escort Zack, I’d been driven to meet him and eventually have him on top of and beneath me. Even before checking out how he preferred to please customers, I’d set a financial goal so I could book a night to get to know him. OnlyFans had given me that opportunity, and I’d taken advantage of the discreet escort service to ease that deep itch inside me.

I’d gone through those great lengths for a few nights with Zack because he looked like the guy who had owned my heart since childhood. He had the same muscular build, dark hair, and hazel eyes as Chaz, my best friend who’d married the third member of our three musketeers from high school.

Last I’d heard, Chaz and Shelly were still together, happily married, and trying for a baby. Having to watch them first hold hands our sophomore year then start kissing over the summer had been as motivating for me to leave Pippen Creek as the drive to be drafted into the NFL.

My stomach turned over the memories assaulting me, so I shoved them from my mind and got back to my dick that had wilted somewhat. A few strokes over my length while thinking about sinking into a tight hole brought my hard-on back to full life, but jerking off again just wasn’t going to cut it this time. Having no other options, I picked my cell up off the cushion beside me with my free hand, the other still playing with my shaft and soft sac.

As an escort, Zack had known exactly how to please. Give and take, he’d been a pretty damn good fit for whenever my need had grown too great and using a dildo on myself for my subscribers hadn’t been enough to satisfy my craving to be stuffed full.

And tonight, I wanted Zack to wreck my hole. Hold me down and make me forget the shit of the last five months and my uncertain future since all my plans, my goals, had been torn apart and still bled.

I opened my bookmarks and frowned at finding his webpage on EEMM gone from existence. The dent between my eyebrows dipped deeper the more I searched Elite’s site. Zack was no longer listed as one of their escorts.

“Fuck,” I grumbled, scrolling through the remaining men on offer. I would have to start from scratch, but if someone caught my eye, I didn’t mind putting in the time to connect with them so I could get off without having to use my hand.

And since I’d gotten a portion of my original contract, I could definitely afford the cost of one of Elite’s escorts.

None of their Tall, Dark, and Handsome or Dominants reminded me of the man I really wanted. Desperate, I switched over to the Twinks & Twunks category. Maybe I would get lucky.

I snorted as an image of someone from back home filled my screen, same as the first time I’d been scrolling for an Elite. Jimmy Riley was blond, pretty as fuck with big blue eyes, and a strict bottom. Far from my type and definitely not someone I was interested in building a connection with even if he was. Two years older than me, he’d been a mess in high school from what I could remember, always getting into trouble with the law. The guy hadn’t ever been able to keep his mouth shut, but Elite Escorts MM were known for their discretion and had NDAs for a reason. I’d taken a chance in hiring a co-worker of his while in college, but Zack could have been Chaz’s older brother, and I would give my left nut for one night with my best friend.

Chaz had been into girls from as far back as I could remember, so I hadn’t bothered with sharing my feelings and fucking up the best friendship a kid could have.

Still hadn’t.

As far as Chaz was aware, I’d been too focused on getting a few Super Bowl rings to bother with a woman while he’d gone and fallen in love with one.

I’d choked back tears when Chaz had pledged to love, honor, and respect Shelly until death parted the high school sweethearts. In my dreams, I’d been the person facing him, our hands clasped tightly between us as we made vows of undying love to each other.

That day had been the toughest of my life, even more traumatic than the popping sound that had ended my NFL career. Nothing could compare to the drawn-out agony of watching the person you loved fall for another and become so goddamn enamored with them that your friendship took an emotional backseat.

It’d been years since Chaz and I had talked but only because I couldn’t stand the pain of hearing his voice or seeing text messages about how happy he was in pursuing his own dreams.

All thoughts of getting a good dicking dissolved at the memories of how I’d lost my best friend and the ache in my chest that always accompanied it.

I tossed my cell aside and slouched farther on the couch, head tipped back and eyes closed. I’d have been a few thousand poorer and well on my way toward needing intervention if getting sloshed appealed to me.

According to Dad, Coach Bernard was ready and willing to hand over his whistle to me, just like he had figured. Hell, Coach himself had called and begged me to return. He wanted to retire knowing his boys would be looked after, that someone who loved football as much as he did would continue his goal of making something out of our small town’s team.

I held no such high hopes. Never had. Rarely did Pippen Creek even have a winning season. Hell, we barely ever had enough kids try out to make a team. I’d been the one and only Bobcat to get a college scholarship, and the fact I’d made it to the NFL had given me Hollywood status back home. That was what Dad claimed, anyway. I hadn’t been there since Chaz’s wedding to see or hear that kind of gossip for myself.

But that might be about to change…

I sat up, leaned forward, elbows on knees, and stared out my dark windows at the twinkling lights of Boston. Could I find contentment in Pippen Creek now that my life’s goal had been buried six feet under? Was it possible to exist in the same small town as my once best friend and his wife while pining for a taste of his mouth and the feel of his body moving against mine?

Groaning, I closed my eyes and hung my head as my dick shifted between my thighs again. “Don’t get any ideas.”

Still, I took a long, hot shower and ended up jerking off to various fantasies of Chaz. On his knees in front of me. Bouncing on my dick. Filling my ass while staring into my eyes.

I came hard, gasping for breath and leaning against the tile wall when my legs threatened to buckle.

Probably a mistake even thinking about returning, but I missed football like a motherfucker and the high over fighting to win. I needed something to immerse myself in that would offer me a sense of the joy that had been torn from me with a single tackle.

I just hoped the choice didn’t lead to even more heartache.

Chapter2

Chaz

“Jesus, Chaz—where the hell have you been? You’re even later than you normally are.” Shelly’s voice grated on my exhausted nerves as I walked in the door after work.

“I had to finish up Mr. Bernard’s truck. He’s leaving for a cross-country trip in a couple of days,” I explained, tossing my keys onto the small table in the entryway. “He’s headed to Arizona now that he’s finally retired.”

My wife stood at the doorway to the kitchen in all her fiery redheaded glory, hands on her trim hips, gray eyes narrowed. She clearly did not give two shits about my old football coach finally fulfilling his lifelong dream. “Did you forget about the welcome home party?”

I hadn’t forgotten—I just wasn’t sure I was ready to face who would be there. “I’m tired, Shell.”

She shook her head while throwing her hands into the air with her usual dramatic flair. “We never go out. Ever! Our best friend finally gets his ass back where he belongs, and you don’t give a shit?”

“He’s ignored me—us—for over four years,” I grumbled, remembering the day we’d last seen Jamie. It had been at our wedding, and I hadn’t even gotten a chance to hug him and tell him goodbye before he’d left the reception long before it had ended. He’d taken off like he’d been desperate to escape Pippen Creek and everyone who lived here, leaving my heart split in two. “What makes you think he’s still interested in being our friend now?”

“Can’t remember hearing about you reaching out to him the last couple of years either,” she stated rather than answering. She spun and stalked into the kitchen.

I followed my wife, needing a beer from the fridge before showering. Shelly spoke the truth, but⁠—

“I swear to God, I’ve never met a more selfish man.” She all but spat the words I’d heard countless times in the previous year since I’d purchased the mechanic shop in Pippen Creek. “All you do is work, Chaz. You’re never home!”

“Because I’m trying to build a business so we don’t need both of our incomes to cover the bills!” I shot back, my blood pressure rising.

It was bad enough I’d been denied a loan from the bank and had to go to my father for financing. Henderson Auto was the only one of its kind downtown, and still I struggled to make ends meet and payments on time. Father always reminded me when I didn’t even when Mother suggested he offer his only son some grace.

Like that would happen anytime soon.

“I’ve only ever wanted one thing from you, Charles Henderson. One!” Shelly turned stormy eyes on me, arms crossed.

“Don’t start, Shell,” I warned, yanking open the fridge door as my stomach twisted into knots. “Fuck knows we’ve been trying for years!”

“And if you had a normal job that offered insurance, we could figure out whose fault it is that I’m not pregnant!”

Fucking hell.

She’d spouted her disapproval of my decision to take over the shop after working there since high school but never to this extent. Dragging my failure to give Shelly her stay-at-home mom dream into this argument? Was she trying to cause a heart attack or make me want to jump off a goddamned bridge?

We’d been happy enough in the beginning. No fire or crazy passion but a calm, shared existence I thought I could be content with for the rest of my life.

Now?

I’d be fine if I winked out of existence, my failings unable to haunt my every waking breath.

I popped the cap off my bottle of beer and chugged until my lungs screamed for oxygen. A spin on my heel sent me toward the bathroom, but no way would I escape reality so easily.

I fucking bombed at everything, whether it was living up to my dad’s standards, getting good grades in school, bringing in enough money on my own and paying my bills on time, or keeping my supposed other half happy…

Shelly continued to rant about those vows I’d made to love and honor her, blah, blah, blah. And she called me selfish for working too hard—to provide for her, goddamnit! Shelly had always been an outspoken, determined woman dead set on getting what she wanted, and while I’d been attracted to that part of her personality when we’d still been in school, I’d learned the hard way she was as easily pleased as my father. Which was not at all, no matter what I did or how much I tried.

Lately, I’d been questioning if I’d made a mistake in marrying her.

I closed the bathroom door in my wife’s face, locking it so she wouldn’t follow me in and gripe at me while I showered.

Part of the reason I wasn’t quick to come home at night was due to her constant nagging and complaining. The woman drove me to drink, but I wasn’t about to become a drunk and add marriage to my list of failures for my dad to remind me of when I was forced to visit my childhood home across town.

I started the shower and hummed to myself while stripping to drown out the grumbling still going on out in the hallway.

Shelly pounded on the door when I chose not to respond.

“Leave me the fuck alone!” I finally raised my voice to her level. “Let me shower, and we’ll go to the party, okay?” I kicked off my shoes. “Jesus Christ,” I muttered to myself. “What does a man have to do to get some goddamn peace and quiet in his own home?”

“You’ve got five minutes!” Shelly yelled. “I hate being late!”

I huffed. The only time she did was when it was her period, but even that had changed because disappointment always followed a delayed menstrual cycle. Too much lack of success in getting pregnant had made her give up hope and left me with a limp cock that wasn’t interested in donating sperm even if she asked for it.

Which, she hadn’t done for months.

Intimacy had shit the bed when I’d found her sitting on the bathroom floor earlier that spring, pregnancy test in hand and tears rolling down her cheeks over yet another negative result. She’d made sure to remind me it was my fault, same as the prior thirty or so other months we hadn’t conceived. She hadn’t told me when she ovulated since then, and I couldn’t be bothered to initiate.

Didn’t want to deal with even more guilt over failing her yet again.

Shelly and I seemed doomed, and I didn’t know how to make shit better. Nothing I ever did created a positive change, and I was exhausted physically and emotionally.

The shower rid my body of sweat, grease, and grime, but my thoughts still felt shitty, all jammed up by her usual unwelcome home and the truth of why lay ahead of us tonight.

Jamie Forester had returned to Pippen Creek.

My heart sped even as my stomach twisted into a tight knot over secret, selfish thankfulness he’d come back years earlier than expected.

Once upon a time, Jamie, Shelly, and I had been three peas in a pod. Inseparable. The best of friends who did everything together. Hell, Jamie had even tagged along on a lot of Shelly’s and my dates in high school. Senior year, he attended prom with us as Shelly’s “side dish.” We’d gotten teased over it by others in school, and I often wondered after he’d left town how many people had expected us to end up in a poly relationship.

As a secret pansexual, I would have been down for that back then. Jamie, however, was as rednecked, jock-like, man’s man as they came. While he’d never shown much interest in girls, Shelly especially, I’d assumed it was due to football being his focus and ticket out of the backwoods of northern New Hampshire.

I never understood why he felt he had to make a name for himself. His dad Sutton, the chief of police in our small town, had a great reputation and was admired. Respected, even by those he had to toss into a cell to sleep off their drunkenness. Jamie’s mom showing her true colors as a piece of trash when we were in middle school hadn’t stained him. Not sure Jamie saw shit that way though.

I expected he hated being here again, and while I was nervous about his return, I was glad.

Too glad.

Talk about an asshole best friend or whatever we were to each other now. I supposed time would tell, but my lack of patience and conflicting desires had turned my insides into an absolute mess.

Shelly gave me space to quickly get dressed, so I got a few seconds to breathe without interference. I swore her heated glare singed me through the walls separating us though. Her toes tapped loudly on the cracked tile entryway, her agitation thick in the air.

Marriage had started out easy enough for us. Sure, we butted heads like every other couple in existence, but a lot of issues had snuck in since we’d exchanged vows four years ago. Distance weaseled between us, and if not for her bitching and fighting for more, I’d think she would be ready to move on as I sometimes wished I could.

But I wouldn’t quit. Refused to. Fuck that shit, because I couldn’t mess up something else for my dad to harp on, and how the hell would my bills get paid without the additional income?

I’d promised Shelly the family she’d always wanted since she had no one but her mother, who was in a long-term care facility, suffering from severe dementia. I’d been lucky enough to convince Shelly we had to wait for marriage to even try. Not saying we didn’t have sex back in high school. Just kept my cock under wraps because I’d refused to be a teenage dad. At twenty-four, we still had plenty of time even though her mom didn’t, and I thought that more than anything weighed heavy on her mind.

“Let’s go!” Shelly grumbled from down the hallway, and I ran a hand through my wet hair.

Scruff lined my usually shaven jaw, and purplish bags lay under my eyes, but depression did shit to a man, made him not care a whole hell of a lot about his appearance. Lips pressed tight, I exited our bedroom and heard exactly what I expected the second I rounded the corner.

“You’re wearing that?”

I ignored Shelly, grabbed my keys again, and headed out the door. She hated my ripped jeans and plain T-shirts with the stretched-out collars, but it was what I felt most relaxed in, and fuck knew I’d need every level of comfort I could for what awaited us downtown.

Shelly muttered nonstop from behind me, but I did my best to pretend she didn’t exist. Shitty of me, but I’d had enough of her bull tonight. Needed something to look forward to, goddamnit. Excitement. A rush of adrenaline. Brightness in my dull, depressing existence.

Jamie’s smile used to light me up from the inside out, and that gorgeous grin of his made encouraging words about everything being okay unnecessary. His presence had been all I’d needed. Would seeing him again cause my stomach to flutter? Settle the unrest in my head like his proximity had done before he abandoned us for bigger and better things?

Huffing, Shelly buckled up her seatbelt, and I caught a sniff of her flowery perfume—and whiskey.

My brow furrowed as I cast a glare at her. “Seriously, Shell? You started already?”

“Shut up,” she muttered, riffling through her purse for who the fuck knew what. Probably that plumping lip gloss that made her lips puff up like a porn star’s. Used to get me hard.

Not anymore.

I backed out of our driveway and took off up the road fast enough that the tires chirped.

Teeth clenched, I fought to swallow down words that would only cause another argument, one we’d had countless times in the past couple of months. The newest reason I wasn’t super excited to get my wife pregnant was because her disappointment in me had led to her drinking hard liquor almost every night since our last failed attempt. Couldn’t trust a woman who was more interested in drowning her sorrows than agreeing to counseling.

She didn’t need a therapist, Shelly had stated with a sneer, just that baby I’d been promising her since high school.

Should have kept my mouth shut on seeking help for our marriage and setting myself up for yet another failure.

Fuck, I hated that word.

I released a slow, steady exhale, focusing on easing the tension in my shoulders and stomach. Getting my emotions set straight became a priority because I was about to be confronted with the one man I’d been desperate to forget but couldn’t no matter how hard I tried.

Memories played in my mind as they often did of all the good times the three of us had together. The laughter. Adventures. Camping out by Pippen Creek Pond, eating s’mores until we were all sick to our stomachs. Skinny-dipping beneath slivers of moon in a star-dotted sky while I hid my lust for Jamie’s perfect body. Drinking cheap strawberry wine we’d managed to sneak from the city south of our small town. The three of us piling up inside a two-man tent, snuggling like a litter of kittens before passing out.

Maybe, just maybe, Jamie’s return would be a good thing.

Then I remembered waking with boners that were more than mere morning wood, pressing against my best friend’s leg even though Shelly had been between us when we’d gone to bed. We’d camped out together three nights, and during each of them, I’d unknowingly clung to Jamie in sleep. Thank fuck he hadn’t woken up before I’d snuck away before sunrise. I might have left the temptation of him all three mornings, but the draw, the longing for more than friendship with my straight best friend…

Nope. Shut that shit down.

I’d made my bed and had no choice but to lay in it.

Jamie, I expected, had a different woman under him every night after accomplishing his goal of making it into the NFL. Career ending too early by an injury or not, the man could have anyone he wanted and probably had more notches on his bedpost than I did checks marks on my weekly to-do list.

I had no business thinking about him in that way. I was married. Owned a struggling business, which needed my full focus. Had responsibilities far beyond daydreams and fantasies of him returning home and declaring, “I’ve been gay this whole time and love you more than Shelly ever could.”

Yeah, that shit only happened in the movies, and I didn’t deserve a happy ride into the sunset after what I’d done, not done, and had fantasized over.

“Why are you parking all the way back here?” Shelly muttered yet another complaint.

Leave it to my wife to question every goddamned thing I did.

Ignoring her, I slammed the truck into park at the back of the lot and threw open my door.

She continued to bitch beneath her breath about the long walk to Frenchie’s entrance.

Secrets aside, I needed to keep my heart out of whatever type of friendship Jamie and I ended up hopefully rekindling after his absence. No way in hell I could handle more stress in my life.

Chapter3

Jamie

I was not in the mood to go to Frenchie’s and put on a front, acting like I was happy to be home. Also didn’t feel up to accepting condolences for lost dreams, seeing pity in people’s eyes, or being asked what I would do now that the NFL was no longer in my future.

Because I didn’t fucking know, and even attempting to consider a new plan made me depressed as hell.

I’d rather have stayed holed up in my old bedroom at Dad’s since being a nudist in his house wasn’t an option, and my balls only swung free behind closed doors. Since arriving back here, I’d done nothing but sprawl on my too-small twin bed and feel sorry for myself. I couldn’t wait for August and the high school football season’s start that would keep me busy and tired enough that my brain would shut down at the end of every day.

But someone had insisted on throwing a welcome home/retirement party—Coach Bernard—because the old guy was proud as fuck of his favorite past player who’d gone on to those bigger and better things. Never mind he couldn’t wait to hit the road for the southwest.

I agreed to go to Frenchie’s on this muggy July night for his sake rather than to meeting up with old friends or making new ones. While I’d committed to coaching the upcoming season for our tiny high school in the hopes I would find some sense of purpose again, I didn’t have plans to stick around long afterward.

Wasn’t sure I would be able to.

Life would be miserable enough having to see Chaz and Shelly together. Even worse, their hanging all over each other when I wanted to be the one kissing Chaz’s lips and littering his neck with hickies for the world to see.

But what else could I do? I’d chosen to return to Pippen Creek in order to have some sort of football in my life, and I would make the most of it while I could.

I’ve got this.

Stitching a smile onto my face at my motto ringing in my ears, I pushed into the thankfully air-conditioned and only bar in town. It had recently been bought by a woman named Frenchie and her wife, Iris. According to Dad, they were Mrs. Grumpy and Mrs. Sunshine. One glance through the massive crowd to the bar on my right revealed who was who.

Both appeared to be in their fifties, and while Frenchie had long graying hair and an icy blue gaze, her wife sported a short, spiky blue haircut, smiling brown eyes focused on me. Regardless of their opposite natures, they both hollered out a, “Welcome to Frenchie’s!” as the door shut behind me, wrapping my overheated body in coolness.

My arrival drew attention, and my smile faltered as dozens of heads swiveled my way. Sweat beaded on my forehead for a whole different reason.

“The man of the hour!” Coach Bernard hopped up from his stool and pushed past people to be the first to greet me. “Welcome home, son,” he said fondly, wrapping me up in his arms. Nostalgia made my eyes sting.

I’d put on some serious muscle weight since high school, so his barrel-chested mass could no longer lift me up off my feet like he used to, but we both chuckled, caught up in the reunion.

“Congrats on finally retiring, old man,” I replied with a teasing tone, slapping him on the back.

He laughed loudly, making it clear he’d already been celebrating for a while. Clasping my shoulder, he turned toward the rest of the crowded bar. “Jamie Forester, everyone!”

As if they didn’t know who I was.

Forcing my grin to stick in place rather than grimacing, I followed along where he led, allowing my old coach to reintroduce me to every patron in the room, bragging about my stats from the greatest rookie season ever.

Damn, did I wish he spoke truth.

While I appreciated his enthusiasm over what would have been a killer rookie season had I not gotten injured, I wanted to escape the crowd and attention focused on me. Being on the field with thousands of eyes watching me run plays had only ever psyched me up and pushed me to do better.

Now?

I felt like a damned anomaly on stage at some carnival freak show while everyone stared. My skin itched. Pulse thrummed. I kept glancing around like a skittish cat needing a way out even though the people were kind and smiling.

The bar’s door pushed inward, but rather than focusing on the means of escape into the darkness beyond, my gaze landed on the redhead who’d once upon a time been like a sister to me.

Shelly Henderson.

And behind her?

Jesus.

All thoughts of football and a bleak future faded to the back of my mind. I swallowed hard, that pulse in my head beginning to pound with every throbbing punch of my heart against my breastbone.

Tall, dark, and handsome. Haunted hazel eyes I wanted on me so I could drown in them like a lovesick puppy. Wide shoulders I lusted to grasp while he pounded into me. Trim hips my legs had always ached to wrap around.

Shelly grasped Chaz’s hand, dragging him in behind her when he seemed to hesitate, her head swiveling as though searching for⁠—

Her shriek and shimmy let me know she’d spotted me, but I couldn’t tear my focus off her husband’s face.

As though feeling my stare, he turned his head my way.

Our gazes snagged hold.

I fucking grinned like a goddamn dork when I’d expected to curl in on myself from the pain of having to see him again.

As though of the same mind, we stalked forward, brushing past people, and at the last second before we crashed into each other, I remembered the woman still clinging to his hand who he’d taken along for the short walk across the bar.

I wrapped my arms around them both and hugged them tight.

But my nose angled toward Chaz, and I breathed him in as deep as I could. Even smelling as though he’d recently scrubbed himself with soap, the underlying smell of the mechanic shop he’d worked in since high school clung to him.

And I fucking loved it. Longed to bathe in his scent. Lick him from head to fucking toe⁠—

Shit.

I stepped away before popping a boner, having to do so forcefully, considering how Shelly had attached herself to my side.

“My God, Jamie!” She laughed and finally released me to clasp my cheeks. “It’s so good to finally have you back home where you belong!” Her breath reeked of whiskey as she brushed a kiss over my cheek, leaving a smear of lip gloss.

“Thanks, Shell. Good to see you too.” I rubbed my face across my shoulder real quick to rid myself of the stickiness.

She grabbed hold of Chaz and leaned into him, caressing his arm with her usual possessive attention. I’d have given my left nut to be able to do the same to him.

I wanted to run my fingers through Chaz’s damp hair, attempt to tame the black waves he’d never given much effort into controlling. Same as always, he wore grungy jeans and a T-shirt that had seen better days, and while his smile and hazel eyes appeared haggard, he was still hot as fuck.

“Next round’s on me!” Coach hollered, and Shelly let out a, “Woohoo!” before releasing Chaz like he had the plague or something. She headed to the bar without sharing another word. No “sorry about your knee,” no begging for gossip from the NFL, no prying into my love life like she used to do. She hadn’t even asked how I was doing.

Chaz and I were left facing each other in the middle of the packed bar, and I couldn’t find it in myself to care his wife had abandoned us for alcohol. I hadn’t gotten him to myself since those brief moments before we’d exited a side door near the church stage where he and Shelly would vow to honor and cherish each other until death parted them.

Should have been me.

“Missed you, brother,” he said, his voice low and gaze a little unsure, causing my throat to tighten.

“Same.”

Fuck it.

I yanked Chaz into my arms and squeezed the living hell out of him. The tension in my guts eased, and I exhaled all of my pent-up agitation at having to people that night. I could have lingered in being pressed against Chaz for hours, but only a few quick seconds passed before he stepped away, clearing his throat. He glanced over at his wife, who held a shot of amber liquid into the air.

She yelled out some nonsense about getting her party on before slamming the drink back. Her laughter and hip bump against the woman beside her I didn’t recognize made it clear she still loved getting buzzed, same as when we’d been teens. The girl had abandonment issues thanks to a father who’d fled the scene with another woman and a mother who’d been ill and pretty much unable to parent for close to a decade. Who wouldn’t want to drown their sorrows in her shoes?

“How are you doing, Jamie? Because that there’s a forced smile if ever I’ve seen one.” Chaz studied me like a bug beneath a microscope.

“Shitty,” I answered honestly, once more giving him my full attention, not bothering to keep my lips upturned. His eyebrows dented inward, creating a deep furrow between them. Smudges beneath his eyes suggested he hadn’t been sleeping well, and I yearned to spoon the hell out of him and demand he get some rest. “How about you?”

“Same.” He spoke low as though trying to hide how he really felt from everyone chatting around us. Typical of Chaz to put on a false front to appease his asshole father, who wasn’t even at Frenchie’s.

That need to comfort and help my best friend, same as all through our childhood, rose inside me as it did whenever he seemed to be hurting. “Maybe we can⁠—”

“Chief!” Coach’s holler pulled my attention toward the bar’s door, which once more stood open.

Dad strode inside, his uniform slightly wrinkled from having worked all day. His best friend Dexter, the captain at our small firehouse, followed behind him, white teeth flashing from his wide grin.

I’d often wondered why the two of them hadn’t hooked up. Dad had admitted to being bi when I came out to him in high school, and it was no secret around town that Dexter liked dick. But I assumed crossing best buddy lines didn’t always end well, and I expected they both appreciated their friendship too much to fuck around and find out.

If Chaz had even hinted at being curious about dick, I would have gladlyjumped over that line and pushed to help him “find out” for sure. In secret, of course, because I’d been destined for the NFL, where being anything but straight wasn’t exactly smiled upon.

Dad headed our way, and I glanced at Chaz to find him staring at me.

Neither of us said a word, and if I hadn’t known better about him liking women, I’d have assumed he was drinking me in as though he’d been as starved for the sight of me as I’d been for him.

Wishful thinking.

Suddenly needy as fuck, I bro-hugged him once more and shoved rising fantasies to the back of my mind, determined to enjoy the parts of him that I could have. To make the most of my time in Pippen Creek before I figured out what to do with the rest of my pitiful life.

“Your dad still have that old tent?” Chaz asked, and I put a foot of space between us, my grin returning, because the immediate future was suddenly fucking bright as hell.

“Not sure, but I’ll buy a new one if you’re suggesting what it sounds like you are.”

“Guys weekend at the pond?” he questioned, and the lack of including his wife hit me low and hard even though things between us wouldn’t go anywhere near where I lusted for.

Still, the chance to have him all to myself?

“Fuck yeah, I’m in,” I agreed, my grin easy and real.

“Jamie—good to see you, kid.” Dexter clasped my hand and yanked me in for a quick hug, tearing my attention fully off Chaz. “Sorry shit worked out like it did.”

And just like that, the lack of end goals returned, dragging me down like a defensive lineman hellbent on tackling me into the ground.