Five years and eleven months later...

Boston, Massachusetts

It's so fucking good to be back, to be settling into my role routines now that I'm back in the city. The west coast wasn't for me, not like the east coast is.

After three years with the Broncos, then two with the Rams, I was grateful to be back east. Even if it had been tough to leave Drew back in L.A., I'd made it back to the Pats— only this time I'd hit the field as their newest, incoming captain.

Tom negotiated a peach of a contract for me, and I'll be set for life after this four-year term. I've come to finish my career where I started it— on top.

At thirty, I was arguably pushing the upper limits of my career prospects, but neither time nor injury had slowed me down as it had to so many other players.

But not me. I was fitter than ever, stronger than ever, and more savage than ever. I'd had no one to soften the hard edges of my temperament in longer than I care to remember. I'd gone full beast, and it had set me free.

I glance at my watch, sighing. I tap my foot restlessly on the luxurious carpet of the lobby and stare into the fireplace from my spot in one of the large, overstuffed leather chairs.

When two delicate hands close over my eyes from behind, I grin and grab the small wrists, tugging hard, trying to pull my date over my shoulder and into my lap. She simply plants her feet and shakes my head from side to side playfully.

"Hello, handsome. Guess who?"

I pretend to be stumped for a moment, then grin as I answer, "The Wicked Witch of Western Europe."

Her lips find my cheek as she leans over my shoulder, and I tug her around for a hug, then kiss her dramatically, and entirely platonically, on her million-dollar pout.

"As delicious as ever, Tash." I wipe her red lipstick off my lips with the pad of my thumb with a wink.

She shoves me away with a dramatic roll of her gorgeous eyes. "Wish I could say the same for you, horn dog. Hands off— you know the rules."

"Rules are made to be broken."

She laughs and shakes her head at me. I catch a glimmer of something unfamiliar in her eyes. Stress? Sadness? I can't place it.

As soon as she smiles, though, that glimmer fades, leaving me wondering if I imagined it. "Not mine, but you know that. Just like I know you feel the same way."

She's right. "So, How long do I get you this time?"

My mind flashes through the past few visits we've had. Me in London, Milan, Paris— dashing off for a weekend here or there between one of her shows. Her meeting me in Nice, St. Tropez, Napa Valley, and Maui on my off-seasons. The entire world thinks we're the 'it' couple of the decade. Neither of us tries to correct the media. This particular assumption provides us a certain reprieve from other kinds of tabloid drama.

"You have me for three weeks. You'll be positively sick of me by then."

"Impossible."

As I tug Tash towards my car, she slides her sunglasses on and shields her face against the swarm of paparazzi outside the building. I wrap one arm around her, letting her use my shoulder as a wall between her and the cameras. I stiff-arm a reporter out of the way with a snarl. He stumbles back in alarm.

Fucking leeches. I briefly wonder why they're flocking her like this; usually, she gets a few days of rest before they start hounding her. Before they realize she's here.

Once she's is settled into the front passenger seat, I step around the hood of my SUV. The reporters give me a wide berth, knowing my record for hospitalizing them is higher than their record of getting anything worthwhile on me. Plus, the heavily tinted windows of my car leave no room for the vultures to snoop further.

"How do you deal with that on your own, Tash? Is it always like that?"

She shakes her head, "It's been worse lately, with my show coming up in two weeks, and after everything in Paris. I probably should have brought security with me today. I just wanted things to feel like they used to. Even if it's only pretend."

I grin at her. "You think you need security when you've got me hanging around?"

She mimes being squished against the door, pressing her cheek against the glass. I know all her games by now to know she's taking a dig at me.

"Quick, pull over, before your massively inflated and constantly growing ego crushes me to death." She settles back into her seat when I start to laugh. The sound is rusty, a little harsh, so she reaches over to squeeze my forearm. "There he is. I've missed that sound. Anyways, why do you think I didn't bring them today?"

Pleased she trusts me to keep an eye out, I glance over at her before focusing on the road. I decide not to push her. "Have any idea where I'm taking you?"

She shakes her head, then starts to fiddle with the strap of her bag. There's that restlessness again. "I love surprises, though, so I don't care. You do have to feed me soon, though. I'm starving."

"I've got a picnic packed, so you'll have to wait a bit longer."

She bats her eyelashes at me and smiles, "Peanut-butter and jelly roll-ups again? Did you cut them like little snails this time?"

I laugh at the memory, and it's a real laugh. The first time she stayed over at my place on a trip through the city, at the start of both our careers, she was hunting through my embarrassingly empty bachelor pantry. All I'd had was peanut butter, beer, tortillas, grape jelly, and Ben and Jerry's.

She'd collected all the ingredients and made a challenge of it. If I could make her something from those provisions, we could be friends forever, in her eyes. After all, she does love her snacks.

So, I'd made peanut butter, and jelly roll-ups, then sliced them into little snail coins and served them in the shape of a flower. I'd had a beer, and I'd made Tash a slightly melted milkshake from the ice cream. Thankfully, I'd developed better eating—and shopping habits after that.

"What, P.B. and J. escargot don't appeal to you anymore? You don't have to worry. This time I had the picnic catered."

I pull off the main road and onto a long, winding drive. When we come to a set of iron gates, I enter the code I received by email this morning.

She looks around, clearly taking note of the remote location. "If I didn't know you, I'd be wondering if this is where you were going to murder me."

"That's part of the appeal, the privacy. Just wait, you're going to love it." I'm more anxious than I thought to be sharing this with her.

When we pull through the gates, I wind the remaining way to the main drive, and I put the car in park, stepping out and around the hood to open Tash's door.

The large, three-car garage sits to the right, connecting to the large, L-shaped, New England style modern farmhouse. The cedar shake accents are a deep reddish-brown, now that they've all been replaced. Everything is pristine after months of renovations and restorations.

"Wow, who's place is this? It's gorgeous."

"It's mine."

The look on Tash's face when she turns to look at me is incredulous. "You bought a house? To live in? In a suburb?"

I roll my eyes, then propel her forwards to the front entrance. "No, I bought it for kicks. Yes, to live in."

"It's so far from the city, from life."

I drag her through the front door, then grab both her shoulders. "It's private. It's secure. I'm sick of people, of reporters, of fans being able to find me in the streets, at my condo. And, it's only fifteen miles to the city. I haven't sold my condo yet, and I thought I'd keep it just in case this doesn't work for me."

She looks at me, considering my words carefully. "Show me around your new bachelor palace, then. There'd better be a pool and a sauna."

"And a hot tub and a jacuzzi in the bathroom attached to what we'll call your room. I know what you need even to consider staying somewhere. This can be a home away from wherever for you, and a real home for me."

She links her arm through mine and smiles. "I suppose it's a nice thing to have a place to call home. We are practically family, after all. We're all each of us has got."

My heart tightens painfully at the reminder. I don't even know where my birth parents are. I haven't seen them since I was nineteen. Part of me thinks they died somewhere, strung out and homeless. Part of me even hopes they're gone. Part of me hopes they're alive, even if it means they don't care.

The only family I have, aside from Tash, is Coach. I still fly him out to my games when he wants. Even Tash loves the old grump. But every time I see him, he drives a painful memory home for me.

Without fail, the last question he asks me at every single game is when he'll be sitting with that sweet, little Miss Annabelle Durand in the bleachers again. The old bastard needs to learn to let go. I'd certainly been trying to ever since the last time I saw her.

She hadn't even acknowledged any of my attempts to contact her after that night. I'd left two messages with the hotel, no luck. I'd called the hotel room myself as soon as I landed, no luck. Even Jo reported back to me that she'd been unsuccessful in tracking Belle down after leaving a series of messages on the cell number she found. I'd also tried that number, in vain, though.

I'd searched the web for any other contact info. I'd even stooped so low as to ask Jo to reach out to Beau through his rep at the agency. He hadn't returned the calls either. Hell, I'd even tried to email Belle— completely unsure if she still used her old college email, so I'd tried the same variation at Gmail, Hotmail, iCloud, and any other combination I could think of. The result was the same. No answer. As soon as I'd realized how pathetic I was acting, I'd cut myself off.

Shaking those thoughts away, I wrap up the tour with Tash, pleased when she 'ooh's' and 'ahh's' over the house. From the bay windows in the kitchen, bedrooms, and living room to the plush home spa and theatre, there's not much she doesn't stop to touch, to explore.

"Hungry?" I grab the picnic basket off the counter once we make our way back through the kitchen, then tug her along to the large, glassed-in kitchen nook.

With no furniture yet, I toss a blanket on the floor, then add a few cushions. I drop down to lean against the wall and pick out the mix of cheese, crackers, meats, bread, fruit, and whatever else the restaurant packed up for me. This sure was one thing I'd miss about my condo— having a gourmet restaurant in the lobby.

Tash slides her feet out of her heels and settles down beside me, leaning partially against me for support. I hand her a small bottle of sparkling water.

"What are you going to do out here all on your lonesome? Those taxi bills are going to rack up if you keep your revolving bedroom door at the pace it's been lately."

Elbowing her gently, I pop a grape into my mouth, then raise an eyebrow at her. "I thought we didn't poke our noses where they don't belong. Or do you also want to talk about your love life?"

She wrinkles her nose just a little, and I see that flash of something in her eyes again. I take a swig of the bubbly water, waiting.

"What love life? At this point, I could live vicariously through the women you bring home. That's as close to sex as I've come in nearly five months."

I choke on the sip I've just swallowed, and she hands me a napkin.

"Honestly, Griff. If you're having sex, you should be able to talk about it."

Shows what she knows. Tash and I have maintained a perfectly platonic friendship because we have rules. Boundaries. This was one of them.

"What about the beret-wearing sculptor?" I try to redirect her focus back onto her love life. Even though I don't want to go there, it's still better than focusing on mine.

She rolls her eyes and pops a cracker into her mouth, chewing slowly, like she's considering her response. "It all went a little nuts. I had to find a new apartment in Paris. François was... intense. Artistic, passionate, perhaps just a little mad. Like all the best artists are. But, I'm glad to have left that all behind."

A small shiver runs through her, so I shift closer and let her settle more completely against my shoulder. "You cold?" I wonder if there's more to the story than she's telling me. But, like everything with her, she'll only tell me when she wants to.

She shakes her head. "Enough about me, let's talk about you. What about your high school sweetheart? Any interest in rekindling lost love?"

This time it's me who shakes my head. "We're not talking about her."

"Aren't we a pair? You're in denial, I'm celibate. Neither is a solution to our problems."

Spreading some cheese and jam onto a cracker, I hand it to her, then make one for myself. Content to just sit here, I let the silence wash over me, but Tash has other ideas.

"Time has a way of healing the wounds of the past, Griff. You should at least try to put all this bitterness behind you. I just know it's those unresolved feelings that are causing you to keep everyone at a distance. Not to mention..." Tash breaks off suddenly, shaking her head, "No, never mind."

She reaches for some fruit and nibbles on a large strawberry. "This is a perfect picnic, a perfect day. Congratulations on your house, love."

Part of me wants to ask her what she wanted to say, but part of me worries it will be too insightful, too much of what I need to hear, rather than want to hear. It's always been her way.

"I do hope you'll consider this home when you're here."

Her head drops down onto my shoulder, and I squeeze her to me gently. She's family, after all.

"I'd be happy to call this home when I'm in town. I worry about you, Griff. I worry about both of us sometimes, we're so used to being alone, neither of us had the parental thing going for us, but I wonder if we've isolated ourselves too much from everyone. Now, you're moving all the way out here, alone. You're my only real friend, and I know it's the same for you, even after all these years. Don't you ever want something of your own? A clean slate? A chance for more?"

I frown at her, wondering where this is all coming from. "We could be more, Tash. We get along; we could live together, adopt, maybe even have a family of our own." I tease her playfully, trying to lighten the mood, but the look on her face tells me my joke has fallen flat. "What's going on up there? Talk to me."

"I love you, but I could never love you like that. It's just not there for me, I know it isn't there for you either. You might be willing to settle, but how can you ask me to? Knowing what real love feels like, how could you ask me to miss out on that? Have you ever fought for anything other than your career in your life? I know I haven't."

I shift back so I can look at her straight on. What is going on with her? "I love you, Tash. I know it's not the conventional kind of love, but it's still real, and that's more than a lot of people have. I can ask you to settle, knowing how shitty the feeling is when you can't have true love. Look, forget I said anything. I didn't realize it would hit such a nerve. I just thought that since neither of us seems like any good and the whole true love thing, we could do a more watered-down version of it, together."

I feel like an idiot, pushing for something I didn't even think I wanted until she started complaining about what was missing.

She drills a delicate finger into my chest. "You have a chance, though. That's the problem. The love of your life is here, in Boston. You've said so yourself. All those years ago, I stayed quiet because I thought it was what you wanted. But you should have fought harder. You should have gone to find her, rather than delegating to that witch, Jo. You shouldn't have left in the first place. You had the love of your life at the tips of your fingers, and you just let it blow away on the wind. If I had that kind of love, I'd never let it go. Not for anything."

Heat flushes to my cheeks, the telltale sign of temper, so I look away. I curse myself for confiding in my friend in the first place. I take a calming breath before I answer her. "I don't know where the hell that came from, but you're so out of line. First, what's your deal with Jo? Second, tell me, would you have walked away from your modeling career for someone when you were twenty? Twenty-five? You know just as well as I do that our careers were our only way out of the shit blenders we grew up in. You're such a hypocrite, Tash, because I know you wouldn't have."

Her hand slides over mine, and she links our fingers together. "Forget about Jo, she's never liked me. The feeling is mutual, though. She always makes it so hard for me to reach you, or pin down your calendar, if I can't get you on your cell. No, I wouldn't have walked away from my career, but I might have taken a chance to ask someone to come with me on that ride. But, I'm sorry, you're right. I shouldn't poke at you like that, I'm just feeling lonely and lousy on the love front these days. You just seem so willing to settle for less than wither of us deserves, after everything. It's not enough for me to just escape my past, I want to thrive. I'm scared I'll never find a love like you talked about, and you just let it go."

I frown, making a mental note to talk to Jo. Tash should always have full access to anything she wants or needs. Me included. "I didn't just let it go. I just didn't fight for it. There's a difference."

She looks up at me with a sad look in her kind, brown eyes. "I'm not sure there is." When she pulls her hand back, she shifts her expression back to a neutral smile. "I'm sorry for my lousy mood. Let's not ruin our day or the happy news that you've bought a house. Are you feeling brave?"

I give her a blank look, wondering what mad scheme she has up her sleeve. "No braver than any other day," I deadpan back to her.

"Then let's go skinny dipping in your new pool." The mischievous glint is back in her eyes, and she pushes up off the ground, our argument forgotten for the moment.

"Last one in buys dinner tonight."

With her head start, I watch her strip down to her underwear and dive into the frigid water with a graceless screech. I shake my head, then strip down to my boxers, more than happy to let the tough topics rest. I was never any good at scratching below the surface, at any rate.

I regret it immediately when my body plunges through the icy water. I shouldn't have jumped in at all. After all, I would have been buying dinner anyway.

- - -

So sorry for the delay in posting! I took a break over the holiday season, but I'm hoping to get back on track now!

As always, if you enjoyed the chapter, then please comment and let me know, or consider voting!

Xx Toria