“Aunt Mo. The woman taught me to be frugal.” He tuned the radio to something soothing and left her alone. He wasn’t trained for this sort of thing. Until Janine was back in town, he’d keep an eye on her—that’s it. After that, it was up to Vanessa’s sponsor to help her get things sorted out.
By the time he’d parked in front of his rental house by the stadium, she was sobbing all over again. He went around, opened the passenger door, and helped her out. When she leaned into him, he hugged her. “Hey. You’re okay. You’re doing okay.” He didn’t know what else to say. With his arm around her shoulders, he guided her inside.
“Coffee?” he asked. “Tea?” He opened the refrigerator. “A three-pound hamburger?”
Vanessa laughed, wiping the tears. “No. Thank you. As appetizing as that sounds.”
He nodded.
“Bathroom? I need to wash this mess.” She pointed at her face, then looked down at her shirt. “Great.” Drops of mascara covered the silky front of her pajamas.
“I’ve got something you can wear. Hold up.” From his room, he grabbed a T-shirt and some athletic pants with a tie waist and brought them back.
“Is it okay if I take a shower? I feel like shit.” She shrugged. “Is that okay?”
“The guest bathroom’s down here. Doesn’t get used much.” He led the way. “The handle sticks, so be careful or you’ll end up burning yourself.” He leaned into the shower. “Just jiggle it like this.”
She peeked around him. “Got it.” She sighed. “Brock, thank you. This is my fault, all of it. I’m not mad at Mark; I’m mad at myself. You told me to tell him, but I was too scared he’d think I was a gold digger. Keeping it a secret only made it look like I am.”
Brock shrugged. “Maybe he’ll cool down long enough for you to talk. To really talk—about everything.”
“You are honestly the most decent man I think I’ve ever met.” She hugged him again.
He gave her a quick pat on the back and pulled the door shut behind him. Luckily, he remembered how Vanessa loved home remodeling shows and there was a whole channel devoted to that sort of thing. Once he’d found it, he headed into the kitchen to make some popcorn.
“That is the cutest picture I have ever seen.” Vanessa was smiling at a picture of Emmy and Watson.
He’d printed a couple, stuck one on the refrigerator, and framed another for his bedside table. Whenever he looked at them, he smiled.
“How is that going?” Vanessa asked, sliding onto the kitchen counter. With her face scrubbed clean and her hair twisted into a messy knot on the back of her head, she looked too young and innocent to have injection scars between her toes.
“It’s going.” He smiled.
“Another good thing about you—you don’t kiss and tell.” She nodded, glancing around the kitchen. “I appreciate you keeping my secrets. All of them. Tonight included.”
While Brock watched game film on his laptop, Vanessa argued with the people on the home renovation shows. She fell asleep after two hours of television. Three hours in, Janine called to say they were running behind.
He didn’t hear from Emmy. He thought about calling her. But he wasn’t sure what sort of explanation he could offer up, and since lying wasn’t an option, he didn’t call.
He’d only spent two nights with her, but he missed not having her beside him. It was too early to start thinking long-term, he knew that, but there were times it felt like they were picking up right where they left off. He’d be okay with that. More than okay.
At five in the morning, Janine showed up.
Brock walked Vanessa out. “You’ve got this, V.”
Vanessa gave him a hard hug. “I’m going to be okay.” She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you—for everything.”
As they pulled away, Brock ran a hand over his face. He was damn lucky. Vanessa’s support network consisted of her sponsor and her ex-husband. She kept her addiction a secret because she was too afraid of what people would think. Dealing with recovery was hard enough. Keeping it a secret while trying to live a normal life? Seemed like it would only add to her burden.
When he got to the stadium, he cleared his head. He’d learned early on that focus was a game changer. Focus—even when his teammates covered the locker room with enlarged posters of his brand-new Alpha underwear ads. Ads enlarged and decorated with permanent markers.
“Who knew you guys could be so creative?” He pulled a poster off the front of his locker. This one had a crudely sketched smiling snake poking above the waistband of the underwear. “At least it’s a friendly snake.”
“I’m not sure I’m going to be able to drive in every morning when there’s a sixty-foot picture of your ass on the side of the road.” RJ shook his head. “Nice or not, that is one big ass.”
McCoy came in and started yanking down posters. He glared at Brock and called them all onto the field to practice. Brock ignored Ricky’s shit-talking, drilled until Russell was happy, and gave one hundred and ten percent until Coach McCoy blew the final whistle.
Coach McCoy told them all to shut up and listen. “Get your gear on the bus. We’re leaving in an hour. You miss the bus, your ass is on the bench.”