The Star (Charleston Condors Book 1)

LANDRY TOLD HIMSELF HE wasn’t nervous about this.

Sure, he’d been on dates before, and like Riley had said, he was kind of a sure thing, but it was still really important to Landry that everything go right.

He looked over the table he’d set up one last time and then headed downstairs.

Riley was standing in his bedroom, fixing his hair in the mirror opposite the bed he no longer slept in.

Landry leaned against the doorframe and just watched him unobserved.

It was both unbelievable and also amazing that in three short weeks, Riley had become more than just Aidan’s little brother, had become so much more than the kid, had become the one person who filled his heart with joy.

“Hey,” Riley said, glancing up at him. “You gonna just stare at me all night?”

“You look like that? Yeah, I am,” Landry said, wrapping his arm in his hand and tugging Riley closer. Loving the feel of Riley’s body against his own. “‘Cause you’re gorgeous.”

“Yeah?” Riley tilted his head up. His impossibly blue eyes twinkled. “Where you gonna take me? Somewhere you can show me off?”

“Not tonight,” Landry said. “I wanna keep you all to myself. At least ’til we have to go make our appearance at the Pirate’s Booty.”

“We gonna traumatize Carter again? Because I’m already looking forward to that.”

“The traumatizing part or the part where we get home, and I strip you naked and make you come so hard you nearly forget your name?” Landry had mostly been teasing, but then Riley’s eyes darkened with lust and that was definitely the biggest problem. Because he wanted to forgo the date and the appearance at the Pirate’s Booty and just stay here in bed with Riley, enjoying the feel of his naked body pressing against his own.

“Why can’t I have both?” Riley grinned.

“You can’t have everything you want,” Landry said firmly, but they both knew he’d give Riley just about anything he wanted.

“Liar,” Riley teased. “I know which part you’re looking forward to, but that’s okay, I am, too. So what’s this surprise I had to stay upstairs for?”

“Well…it’s actually still up,” Landry said, gesturing up. “You haven’t been up on the roof yet, so I thought this was the perfect time.”

“You’ve got a roof terrace?”

Landry nodded. “And it’s all ours for tonight.”

“What are you waiting for?” Riley asked. “Come on, show me your roof, baby.”

Hand-in-hand, Landry took him to the hidden door, tucked into his walk-in closet, and then led him up the narrow staircase to the roof.

“It’s not much,” Landry said as they emerged onto the terrace. It wasn’t very big, but just big enough for the table and two chairs he’d carted up here. And the dinner, resting underneath silver covers.

There was a bottle of champagne chilling in a matching silver bucket and a bottle of sparkling cider next to it because he knew Riley didn’t like to drink during the week.

Of course, today was Monday and their day off, but he was still trying to be respectful. Still trying to show he was supportive.

Not because Riley was particularly difficult to please, but actually the opposite. He was easy to please, easy to surprise, easy to appreciate, and that made Landry want to love him that much better, that much deeper.

“Wow,” Riley said, clearly not getting the memo that this wasn’t much. Because it wasn’t. But even he had to admit, despite having trouble tearing his eyes from Riley, the view was pretty damn good. “It’s amazing up here. I can’t believe you did all this.”

Landry pulled him close again. Loved the feel of him. The smell of him. How had he come to be the most comforting yet arousing thing he’d ever experienced? He didn’t know, but he knew those feelings weren’t ever going to fade. “It wasn’t that much,” he said.

Riley shot him a look. “It’s plenty. Is that dinner? Did you cook?”

“I can’t cook like you, not even close, so I had it catered.” Landry shrugged. “One of the best restaurants in town, too. Deacon recommended it, so it must be good.”

“I’m sure it’s amazing. I can’t wait to dig in. But first…” Riley murmured and reached up, pressing his mouth against Landry’s. It was so easy to fall into the kiss. Easier, somehow, each and every time they did this. “Thank you. For doing this. For being…well, for being you.”

They sat down then, which Landry was partially grateful for—because if they didn’t, he’d have been way too tempted to drag Riley back downstairs or continue their habit of nearly having sex in public—and also partially hated, because how was he supposed to wait when Riley felt that good and tasted that good and made him feel as desperate as this?

The food wasn’t fancy because Landry had specifically requested that it not be. He wanted to impress Riley, but at the same time, he liked the casual feeling of sharing a regular meal with his guy.

“This chicken is delicious,” Riley said as he took another bite and chewed. “You think they’d give me the recipe?”

“After the game you played last week?” Landry smiled. “Yeah, I think so. You’re the new miracle in Charleston.”

“I’m not,” Riley said, shooting him a lopsided smile.

“You told me that just today you caused a sensation in the grocery store,” Landry reminded him. “How many autographs did you sign?”

But Riley just shrugged. “I think they were more surprised than anything else that an NFL quarterback buys his own groceries.”

“I told you, you didn’t have to. We could get delivery again,” Landry pointed out.

“Except I like to do it. Reminds me I’m not a god, just a man who needs almond milk and protein powder.”

Landry set his elbows on the table, hearing the echo of his mother yelling at him about his manners. “You’re definitely a man, no questions. If you ever need a reminder…” He grinned. “Come to me, okay?”

Riley shot him a hot, smoky look. “How about later?”

“When I say anytime, I mean it literally. Anytime,” Landry teased.

“Now you’re just being mean,” Riley grumbled, but he was smiling, and his eyes, well…Landry thought they might be full of affection—or maybe it was something even more than that. Something he was feeling, too.

“Speaking of food, you figured out where you want to have the offensive line dinner this week?”

“Actually—” Riley hesitated. He looked suddenly worried, and that worried Landry.

“What is it?”

“I thought it would be fun to host them here, and I’d cook. Have a little house party, if you don’t mind.”

“I love that idea,” Landry said, realizing that he actually, really did. Hosting their friends and teammates here, at the house they were sharing? Sounded really fucking amazing. Not something he’d have ever imagined he wanted. Even when Logan had told him about the backyard barbeques he and Dylan hosted for their Piranhas teammates, he’d not felt even the slightest bit of envy. He’d thought, Wow, that sounds like a lot of work.

Now what was he thinking?

Where could he sign up, and how quickly could he do it?

“Really?” Riley looked excited. “I wasn’t sure, and it is your place, but it just feels so much more personal, and I want things to be personal here. Especially after…especially after last year? Yeah, I feel like everyone’s still trying to figure out the new Condors, and shouldn’t we be setting that example? Deacon and Jem have started it, and Carter too, surprisingly, but I’m the leader, and I should be leading, too.”

“You are leading,” Landry said softly.

“Yeah, but I could do more,” Riley said firmly. “I want to do more. At first, I didn’t really see this as my team. I was coming in late, taking over for Charlie and Nelson’s team, but now? Now it feels like mine. I want it to feel like mine.”

“Then make it yours, Riley.” Landry meant every word. “Just tell me what I can do.”

Riley tilted his head. A soft smile graced his handsome face. “You’re really great, you know?”

It was Landry’s turn to be bashful. He didn’t think he was doing anything particularly special. He was just being the kind of man—the kind of partner—he knew Riley deserved.

“Uh, well, I’m just…”

Riley reached across the tiny table and gripped his hand. It wasn’t as large as Landry’s, but Landry felt the callouses scrape along his own as it fit perfectly into his. “Yeah, you are,” he said. “No arguments. Or else I’m gonna tie you up and torture you.”

Landry raised an eyebrow, feeling his blood heat again at just the idea of being helpless and totally at Riley’s mercy. He’d be a tough but fair captor. “Is that really a threat?” he teased.

Riley grinned. “Maybe not.”

They finished the meal and then Landry had reached over, popping the cork on the champagne, preparing to bring out the chocolate desserts the caterers had dropped off when Riley’s phone rang.

He glanced at it, then frowned. “I wonder why Deacon’s calling me.”

“Maybe something about meeting up later at the Pirate’s Booty?” Landry poured a glass of champagne for Riley and then himself, setting the bottle back into the ice bucket.

Riley answered the phone with a, “Yeah?”

He nodded at whatever Deacon was saying, then Landry watched as his face creased into a frown, which deepened further at every word Deacon said.

Uneasiness bloomed in Landry’s stomach. Something bad had happened, and Deacon was calling Riley as the unspoken leader of the defense to the leader of the offense.

Finally, after a final nod and a, “Yeah, we’ll be there,” Riley hung up.

“Well,” Riley said, setting his phone on the table with a definitive click. “That’s not good.”

“Seems like a whole lot more than not good,” Landry observed.

“Rex broke his leg playing basketball,” Riley said. “I guess he got tangled up with some people while he was guarding the basket.”

“Probably playing dirty again,” Landry mumbled, then immediately felt guilt swamp him at the thought. Yeah, Rex had played him dirty in practice a few times, but he didn’t deserve a bad injury like that, one likely to keep him out of the rest of the season and, on top of that, put his football-playing future up in the air.

“Probably,” Riley said. “He’s in the hospital. I said we’d stop by. See how he’s doing. I guess he’s having surgery in the morning. So we should go tonight.”

Landry did make a face at that. “Really?”

“Yep.” Riley looked regretful. “Deacon says he’s bringing over some guys, too. Coach Kelley’s gonna be there, and Mr. G, apparently.”

“You think they’re gonna allow all these guys in the hospital?” Landry questioned. Yeah, he really didn’t want to go. Yes, he supported Rex. Hoped he’d regain his mobility and his prowess again so he could play someone else dirty someday. But he really didn’t want to go visit tonight.

Tonight, he wanted to dance with Riley and find another dark corner and make out until his knees felt weak and wobbly, then come home and have another round of very excellent sex.

That was how he wanted the night to go, not head over to the hospital and visit someone who Landry wasn’t sure would bother doing it for any of the rest of them.

But Riley looked determined, and as the leader, he would be expected to be there.

“I think it’s worth trying, and the gesture alone is worth it,” Riley said with determination. “Come on.”

Landry made a face and downed his whole glass of champagne because if he was going to have to pretend to give a shit about someone who’d essentially tried to put him in the hospital, he was going to need some liquid courage to do it.

When they got to the hospital, the nurse led them up to the orthopedics wing, where the surgical group that specialized in the Condors’ injuries resided.

Landry hadn’t ever been up here—hadn’t ever had an injury like this that needed specialist care, and counted himself lucky that was the case.

On their way to Rex’s room where he was being kept overnight til the surgery, and, as the nurse said, “Drugged within an inch of his life for the pain,” they ran into Mr. G.

“Oh, good, Riley, you’re here,” Mr. G said, running a hand through his hair. “Deacon said you’d be by.”

“Rex doing okay?”

Mr. G didn’t look confident. “He looks like he just smashed his leg to bits and like he was out of it from how much pain meds they gave him.”

“Ugh,” Riley said. “That’s terrible. Do you know the details of his prognosis?”

“Not anything specific, just that he needs surgery to set the break,” Mr. G said heavily. “It’s not looking good for the rest of the season.”

“Here he is,” the nurse said, stopping in front of a private room. The door was open, and as Landry stopped, he saw Rex lying in bed, his head turned away from them, his leg propped up in a sling to keep it completely immobilized.

“Yeah,” Rex slurred into the phone. “It really fucking sucks. Yeah, I know. I know.” His words came out even slower than normal, drawn out like syrup, probably from the heavy medication the doctors had put him on. “I know, the bet’s this weekend. I know. It’s not like we were favored anyway, but with Flynn…I know. Fucking sucks. We’re gonna fucking lose by a million if nobody’s coverin’ Chase fucking Riley. Won’t even cover the spread.” He paused. “You’re gonna lose a mint? How about me? I’m riding on this one, baby.”

Landry froze. He glanced over at Riley, who was equally still.

Betting was one hundred percent not allowed in the National Football League. It wasn’t just frowned upon or highly discouraged, it was an enormous offense, and if you were caught, even for a minor infraction, it always meant serious punishment. Calvin Ridley, who’d bet $1,500 on a game he wasn’t even playing in, had been banned for a year when he’d been discovered.

Landry had thought Rex was bad news, had believed it when he’d personally gone after him in practice, and even more when Carter had warned him about the corner’s typical behavior.

But never in a million years had he imagined this.

Was the guy so arrogant and smug about his position that he thought he could just blab out loud, in the middle of a busy hospital, about blatantly breaking the one universal rule of professional sports? Don’t ever fucking bet?

He might be, Landry realized.

Next to them, he watched as Mr. G’s face morphed into hard, inflexible lines.

On the bed, Rex kept blabbing about how far he’d committed himself with this bet—it seemed like it wasn’t a singular occurrence either, but this particular game was a parlay on some other bets he’d lost, including, apparently betting against the Condors on several occasions.

Mr. G cleared his throat.

Rex glanced over, and the sudden realization, coupled with the intense regret and guilt blooming across his features, made it clear he knew he’d just been caught.

Even the veneer of heavy-duty pain meds wasn’t enough to shield him from the way he must know the shit had just hit the fan.

“Oh, Mr. G,” Rex said weakly. “Didn’t see you there.”

“No, I’m sure you didn’t,” Mr. G said in a tone forged from steel.

It was worse, Landry realized, than it might’ve been otherwise because he knew Mr. G had personally conversed with and vetted every player and every coach and every staff member who’d stayed over from the previous ownership. He’d wanted to clean house as completely as he could.

Not only had Rex broken the cardinal rule, but he’d done it while fooling the Condors’ new owner. Even if there was room to forgive—and Landry knew there wasn’t—Mr. G wouldn’t be tempted. He was pissed as hell because he’d personally vouched for Rex, and this was how he’d repaid him.

“We thought we’d come see how you were doing,” Riley said hesitantly. Landry had a feeling that no matter how many lessons Aidan had given him on how to be a team leader, he’d never instructed him on how to deal with a player who’d just been caught, right in front of the fucking owner, gambling.

Worse, even, than breaking a leg doing something that wasn’t on the football field.

“Like shit,” Rex said bluntly.

Landry had a feeling he wasn’t just talking about his leg, but probably the money he’d lose on the bet. And the rest of the money he’d likely lose because the chances of him being banned for life from the NFL were high.

“I bet,” Landry said wryly. Ironically.

Rex made a face. Clearly, he hadn’t appreciated the joke.

Landry wouldn’t either if he was him, but then he also wouldn’t be caught dead taking the kind of risks Rex had.

“Mr. G,” Rex said, and yes, he was begging. That much was abundantly clear. “You don’t have to…it’s not what it looks like, I swear.”

But Mr. G was still staring at him with an expression that looked like it had been carved from marble. He clearly didn’t believe a word Rex was saying.

Landry couldn’t blame him. He didn’t exactly believe Rex, either.

“Rex,” Mr. G finally said, and his voice was gentler than Landry personally thought he deserved, “we all heard what you said. It’s my responsibility to report it to the NFL. You know that. They’ll conduct their investigation and figure out what’s true and what’s not true.”

“But—” Rex was still arguing. He looked like he desperately wanted to jam the call button and request so many hardcore drugs he didn’t even know what was happening. But that wouldn’t stop it. Not now.

“No,” Mr. G interrupted. “No. We talked about this, Rex. We talked about my responsibility to this team, what I wanted it to be. And instead of listening to me, instead of being the kind of player—the kind of man—I know you could be, you bet on the Condors. You gambled on us. Which you know full well is forbidden.”

“But—” Rex attempted to interrupt again, but yet again, Mr. G wasn’t having it.

“No, no, you don’t get to try to argue with me. Not now. I’m very sorry you’re injured. Sorry for your family. But yes, I will be reporting this. No matter what the NFL finds, the Condors will cover your surgery. Your recovery. Your physical therapy. And that’s the last dime you will ever get from this team. Is that clear?”

Rex shrank back into the pillows. Looking pale. “Yes,” he said bitterly, like he was being unfairly punished when in Landry’s opinion, Mr. G had been more than a little generous, considering what they’d all just overheard.

“What’s going on?”

Landry glanced back, and there was Deacon in the doorway, Jem and Beck a few steps behind, looking confused.

“Just more truths being discovered,” Mr. G said flatly and turned on his heel and walked away.

Deacon glanced at his retreating back like he wanted nothing more than to follow but felt torn. Like what he really wanted was walking away, even though he knew his obligations were here, right in front of him.

“What happened?” Deacon demanded.

Rex buried his head in the pillow.

Landry felt a pulse of sympathy for him, even though he didn’t really deserve it.

He probably didn’t even realize the magnitude of what had just transpired, and he wouldn’t until tomorrow when he woke up from his surgery and the drugs began to wear off. Then he’d know, and there’d still be nothing he could do.

“Rex was on the phone when we came in,” Riley said in a low voice. “And he was talking to someone about…about betting. On the team. On Sunday’s game. And how we weren’t going to cover the spread, even if we won, because he wasn’t playing anymore.” He paused. “How much money he was going to lose as a result.”

Deacon’s mouth compressed into a hard line. “And Grant heard it,” he stated rather than asked.

Riley nodded.

“Shit,” Deacon said, and then he did turn and leave, pushing between Beck and Jem, clearly going after Mr. G, even though Jem held out a hand, trying to stop him.

“He didn’t want to be right about you, Rex,” Jem said, and he sounded angry. Maybe not just at Rex, who definitely fully deserved it, but at himself, too. At all of them. Because they’d trusted Rex, who’d turned out not to be worthy of any of it.

“You don’t know what it’s like,” Rex said, his voice cracking. “You don’t know what it’s like to have a family, and to have to take care of them. All of them.”

“You pimp yourself out on Instagram or OnlyFans or, God knows, anything else, but you don’t fucking bet on anything,” Beck said savagely. “You know better.”

Rex didn’t say anything else.

“Come on,” Riley said, putting a hand on Beck’s arm. “We don’t need to be here for this. We…we’re real sorry, Rex.”

“Not as sorry as you are, though,” Jem said.

Unfortunately, that was probably true.

Riley knew he was quiet on the way home, but then Landry didn’t say much of anything.

It was sobering what had just happened in Rex’s hospital room.

Not only had he seriously injured his leg, he’d destroyed his future.

“I didn’t know what to do,” Riley finally said as they walked into the house. “That was…”

Landry turned in the foyer, opened his arms, and Riley fell into them as easily as breathing.

“Awful,” Landry finished for him, his voice muffled from the way his mouth pressed against the top of Riley’s head.

“Yeah,” Riley agreed. His throat felt raw. “I wanted to do something, to fix it, but I couldn’t. It’s not…it’s not fixable.”

“You didn’t do anything that needed to be fixed,” Landry said firmly. “That’s all on Rex. He chose to make those decisions, to take that path. And you know what? Even if we didn’t walk in on him today, the NFL would’ve eventually realized what he was doing. It was only a matter of time. He was playing with fire, and he knew it, and he just didn’t care.”

Riley knew he was right, but it didn’t stop him from feeling a tiny frisson of guilt deep down. If they hadn’t been there today, if they hadn’t walked in on Rex’s conversation…

But they had.

Wishing wasn’t going to change anything.

It certainly wasn’t going to go back and convince Rex not to take the worst step possible.

“I really thought things were…I don’t know…better,” Riley said.

“They are better,” Landry promised. His arms tightened around Riley.

“Yeah, tomorrow’s gonna suck. We’ve got the Riptide this week, and they just won the freaking Super Bowl, and now we’re gonna have to play them without Rex.”

They were already a long shot to win.

Rex must’ve been desperate to bet that the Condors would beat last year’s Super Bowl champs—already favored to repeat.

But then, why else would he do it at all if he wasn’t desperate?

“Yeah,” Landry agreed.

“It was always going to be pretty much an impossible task, David versus freaking Goliath,” Riley murmured. “And now, we’re all gonna be reeling from…well, from this.”

Because it wasn’t just as devastating as losing Rex to a season-ending injury, though they were. It was also the inherent betrayal he’d revealed on his way out.

Landry didn’t say anything, but Riley knew he was thinking the same thing.

“What if…” Riley hesitated. “What if we not only have the offensive line over this week, but…well, the whole team? The coaches, too. And Mr. G.”

“You want to host a hundred people in this townhouse?” Landry asked, sounding amused. But then he didn’t sound against the idea either.

“It’s not that small,” Riley defended. “We can manage it. There’s the living room, and the kitchen, and the back deck. We can make it work. And I can cook.”

“You can,” Landry agreed. “But we can also have it catered.”

“But—”

“Riley, you can’t put on a party for over a hundred people yourself. Let me help.”

“Fine, fine, we can cater part of it,” Riley agreed. He pulled back a little and saw the smile tugging up a corner of Landry’s lips. “You’re still great, you know. The best, actually.”

“Because I’m willing to help you host the entire freaking football team here?”

“Not just that—though that’s a big part of it—but because you didn’t even blink when I asked. You just rolled with it, you’re…” Riley took a deep breath. It felt like the words were tumbling out of him without even trying. Without even meaning to. “You’re just what I always wanted and didn’t think I could have. But I do, now.”

“Yeah, you do,” Landry said and pressed his mouth against Riley’s. It was a sweet kiss with the barest hint of a promise for more.

Not just the undeniably hot sex, but that he’d continue to be everything Riley had ever wanted and would never stop being the things Riley had never thought he could have.