CHANGING THE PLAYER: Charleston Pirates #1 by Chance, Jacob (digital e reader TXT) 📕

time, but more often than not, I grab takeout from here or a couple of other local places.”

“Thank you for introducing me to this shop. It’s close enough to my office that I can add it to our list of places to grab lunch from.”

“You seemed to enjoy your sandwich.” He tips his chin toward my empty plate.

“Ya think?” I ask. “I pretty much inhaled it.”

“Excuse me.” A couple of college-age girls stop beside our table. “Would you mind if I took a picture of you guys?” one of them asks.

“Sure,” Flynn readily agrees. He takes hold of my hand, reminding me of our agreement that I seemed to have forgotten about for the entire time we’ve been sitting here. Our eyes meet and he smiles at me.

“Aw, that was a great picture,” the girl says, reminding me we’re mid photo op here. She takes a few more with both of us smiling her way.

“Would you like me to take a picture of you girls with Flynn?” I ask.

“Oh my God. Yes, please.” They both giggle with excitement. Pushing back my chair, I stand and take the phone from her. Flynn springs to his feet, moving between the girls but keeping his distance. He places a hand on each girl’s shoulder, and I capture the moment for them.

Handing over the phone, I settle onto my chair once more. They call out a thank you as they walk off, and Flynn lowers to his seat across the table.

“Mr. Superstar, everyone wants a piece of you,” I say.

“Nah, it’s not always like this.”

“I don't believe you.”

“Okay, it’s not always so many in one day. It just depends on the luck of the draw. Some days there may only be one or two.”

Propping my elbow on the table, I rest my cheek on my fist. “I can’t even imagine that. No one has ever asked me for my autograph. And no one ever will.”

“It happens here more than when I’m back in Massachusetts. I’m kind of invisible there.”

I doubt what he’s saying is true. He may think he’s invisible, but this man is noticed everywhere he goes. Even with shorts, a faded t-shirt, and a cap spun backward, he still has an air about him that makes him stand out. He has that “it factor” that sets him apart from everyone else.

“How often do you make it back home for a visit?” I may have known Flynn since he graduated college, but I don’t know all the ins and outs of his life. In the off season, we only talk when we need to for business purposes.

“I spend a lot of my time in Boston in the off season. But this time of year, I don’t have a chance to visit. Unless there’s a specific reason for me to head up there.”

“Do you miss it much?” I ask.

“Not really. Kendra is down here, so I see her all the time. Hell, my best friend is on the same team as me. That’s something we used to dream about back in our days at Boston University. And we have you to thank for facilitating that.”

“I bet the two of you raised some hell in college,” I say.

He grins, a quick flash of his straight, white teeth. “We had a lot of fun, for sure. Our frat was made up of some great guys. We still keep in touch with them. You’ve no doubt heard of a couple of them—Trevor Lincoln and Owen Dawson.”

“The players on the Patriots?” I ask, a little in awe that they all went to the same college and lived together.

“Yep, that’s them. Clancy Wilde lived in our frat too,” he tells me.

“Wow, was there something in the drinking water that gave you guys an athletic advantage?” I jest.

“Back then, we drank beer more than anything else.” He smiles.

“When’s the last time you saw your frat brothers?”

“I see Trevor and Owen more than anyone else because we play them twice each season. But every summer, all of us spend a weekend together in the Hamptons at Trevor’s family’s house.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. It’s like a yearly reunion.”

“Exactly. It’s always a great time, and their wives and kids come too.”

“Are most of your friends married with kids?”

“Most of them are. Darren and I are holding out as long as we can.” He laughs.

“Are you afraid of that kind of commitment?” I question, wondering if he’ll answer.

“I wouldn’t say I’m afraid of it, I’m just not sure I’ll ever find someone I want to spend that much time with.”

“Your parents are still married,” I point out.

“I don’t think my parents are the best example.”

“Why not?” I press.

He tugs on his earlobe as he thinks it over. “They might be a good example of loving each other and being faithful, but when it came to parenting, they didn’t do such a great job.”

“I always got the impression you weren’t particularly close with them, but I never knew why.”

“They didn’t beat us or anything, and we were always provided with whatever we needed.” He takes a sip of water and I watch the muscles in his neck flex as he swallows.

Who knew drinking water could be sexy?

“I’m not sure how to explain the way my parents are without sounding ungrateful, and I’m not. They gave me the tools I needed to get to this point, so they did a lot of things right.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” I offer, hoping to make this easier on him.

“No, we’re mid-conversation and I want to finish explaining.” He inhales as if he’s trying to prepare himself for the truths he’s about to spill. “My parents are ridiculously in love, to the point of excluding others. As their son, it felt like they didn’t have much love left for their kids.” He watches his fingers spin the plastic bottle cap on the table.

I remain silent, thinking over his words. This confident, successful man didn’t feel loved growing up?

“Flynn,” I call