Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125866 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 629(@200wpm)___ 503(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
“About?”
“Camp,” he breathed as he lowered, and his face turned red with strain as he pushed the weight back up again.
“Two more,” I said, knowing he was close to failure, but he could push a little more.
Braden groaned, but determination slid over him as he gritted his teeth and sank down for another squat. He shook all the way back up to standing, hissing through his teeth when his legs locked.
“Last one,” I said.
He looked ready to throw in the towel, but he didn’t. He squatted low, and on the way up, his body started to stall. I stepped in just enough to give him the slightest bit of assist, and then with sweat dripping down his neck, he racked the barbell, hanging his hands on his hips.
“No,” I said as he rested, and I changed the weight up on the barbell, adding another twenty pounds to each side for me.
“No?”
I cocked a brow at him. “When have you ever known me to be nervous.”
He rolled his eyes at that, nodding for me to take his place in the torture chamber and get my squats in.
Braden and I had trained together relentlessly over the summer. Now, we were just a little over a week away from training camp starting.
I didn’t lie. I really wasn’t nervous.
But I was unprepared.
We were rookies. We had zero idea what to expect — no matter how we tried to watch tape, learn the playbook, and train until our bodies were weak. The truth of the matter was that we were young, and compared to the beasts who had been playing in the NFL for years, we were weak.
“Are you?” I asked when I got through my set. “Nervous, I mean.”
“Fuck yeah, I am,” he said. “I want a spot on this team so fucking bad, Kyle. I…” He shook his head, swiping his water bottle from the ground. “I can’t fail at camp. I just can’t.”
I knew without asking that he was thinking about his sister, his parents, about the weight of the world he’d always worn on his shoulders so they wouldn’t have to. He was quiet about it most of the time, but every now and then, he’d talk about his sister’s illness. I didn’t know everything, but I knew he’d been the responsible one in his family for years now. I knew he was the kid his parents didn’t have to worry about, that he took it on himself to care for them and for his sister, too.
I knew he had his reasons for not blowing through his signing bonus — no matter how much I loved to give him shit about it.
“You won’t,” I assured him, clapping his shoulder. “Especially because I’ll be there to push your ass.”
“Sure you won’t be distracted by a certain redheaded MILF we know?” Braden smirked.
I punched him hard enough in the arm to make him yelp. “Watch it.”
He laughed, holding up his hands. “I’m thinking things aren’t so fake anymore with that reaction.”
“It’s never been fake,” I admitted, sighing as we wiped down the squatting equipment and moved over to the bench press.
“Seems like things have gotten pretty serious since the wedding,” he assessed, taking his spot under the barbell. I was quiet as he pulsed out his first set, and when he sat back up, he cocked a brow at me, waiting for my response.
I sighed, sinking down onto a bench across from him. “Is it crazy if I admit that’s true?”
I knew my answer shocked Braden. His eyebrows slid up into his hairline, his jaw hinging open a bit.
“No, not crazy,” he finally said. “Fast, maybe, but…”
I groaned, sliding my hands back through my hair. “I know. It has been fast. But… only if you look at this summer. The truth is that I’ve been gone for that girl for fucking years, Braden. And the way I feel about her…”
The corner of Braden’s mouth quirked up. “Who are you and what have you done with the Kyle Robbins shithead I know?”
I scowled, winding up my sweat towel and snapping him with it before we traded places.
I pumped out ten quick reps before sitting up again.
“Why aren’t we ever having these conversations about you,” I asked, jabbing him in the chest with my finger.
Braden shrugged, though I didn’t miss how the question had sobered him. “You know how it is for me. Football and family — that’s where my focus is.”
“You know you can be a great athlete, take care of your family, and still have a little time for fun, right?”
He frowned. “It doesn’t feel fair.”
“What doesn’t?”
“For me to be able to have fun, to live a life so full when my sister…”
He swallowed, not finishing the sentence.
“She would want that for you,” I said. “She’d want you to live.”
Braden considered it for a moment before he was shooing me out of the way, lining himself up under the bar. He was quiet for his set, and then he sat up, wiping his face with his towel.