Whispered Promises

Chapter 34 - Lines of Protection

Marques' POV

The cold New York air bites at my skin as I wait at the airport, leaning against the sleek black SUV that Dad insisted I take to pick up Josy. I hate how weak my leg still feels, how the chill cuts right through the scar tissue like it knows I'm still not a hundred percent. It's been months since the injury, but it feels like I'm never going to be the same.

A part of me is pissed off. I worked my whole life for this—football, the NFL, everything. Now, it feels like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff, and I don't know if I'll make it to the other side. Every time I get out there on the field, there's this nagging doubt in the back of my head, like what if I never get back to where I was? What if this is the end?

I shake my head, trying to shove those thoughts aside as I see Josy coming through the airport doors, her breath visible in the cold air. She spots me, her face lighting up, and despite everything, I can't help but smile.

"Hey, bro!" she calls out, pulling her suitcase behind her as she jogs over.

I open the passenger door for her, giving her a quick side hug before she throws her bag in the backseat. "Took you long enough," I tease, even though I was the one waiting.

"Shut up," she laughs, climbing into the SUV and buckling up. "I couldn't miss my flight, you know. I was way too excited to see your limping butt again."

I roll my eyes, getting into the driver's seat. "Yeah, yeah. Let's just get home."

The drive from the airport to the house is mostly quiet, aside from the usual back-and-forth banter we've always had. Josy's been away at school, and though we text and FaceTime, it's not the same. I miss having her around. Growing up with a twin means you're never really alone, and since the injury, I've felt that loneliness even more. Especially with everything up in the air about football.

As I pull up to the house, Josy whistles low. "Damn, I forgot how big this place is."

"Yeah, well, it hasn't changed. Except for Mom being on some country club high and Dad trying to play 'family man' all of a sudden."

She snickers, knowing exactly what I mean. Our parents have always been more focused on their own lives—their businesses, their social circles, their image. But now that Josy and I are older, they've suddenly decided to be more involved, more present. It's weird, and honestly, a little annoying.

"Do you think they'll smother us with affection the whole break?" Josy asks as we get out of the car.

I grin. "Guaranteed. Brace yourself for endless dinners and questions about our 'futures.'"

She groans dramatically, but there's a laugh behind it. "Great. Can't wait."

We head inside, where the house smells like freshly cooked food. It's one of those rare times when both Mom and Dad are home, and of course, they're playing the role of perfect hosts. Dinner's already set, the table overflowing with dishes like they're hosting some kind of party.

As we sit down, the questions start. Dad's asking about my rehab, about how football is going. Mom's talking to Josy about her classes, her friends. The whole time, I'm just trying to get through the meal without rolling my eyes. They mean well, but it feels like they're trying too hard.

Once dinner's over and Josy and I retreat to the living room, I finally relax. Rubbing my leg absentmindedly, I glance over at Josy. "So, how's fake-dating my best friend?"

She groans, sinking into the couch beside me. "Ugh, can we not talk about it?"

"Why not? You didn't get knocked up with Jackson's kid, did you?" I smirk, teasing her.

She glares at me, throwing a pillow in my face. "Marques! No, I didn't get knocked up. And it's still fake."

I raise an eyebrow, not buying it. "Uh-huh. You sure about that? You've been texting him non-stop since you got here."

She blushes, which is all the confirmation I need. "It's not like that," she insists, but there's a hint of hesitation in her voice.

I sit up, leaning my elbow on the back of the couch as I look at her. "Look, Jo, I know Jackson better than anyone. He's my best friend, but you know his reputation with girls. He's not exactly the commitment type."

She sighs, picking at the edge of the couch cushion. "I know, I know. We're just playing along to stop people from bugging us about dating. That's all."

I study her for a minute, catching the way her eyes flicker down to her phone every few seconds. "You sure about that? Because from where I'm sitting, it doesn't look fake anymore."

She doesn't say anything at first, just keeps staring at her phone like she's waiting for a text. And I get it. Jackson's a cool guy. Charismatic, funny, charming—he can sweep anyone off their feet. But I don't want him hurting Josy, not when I can stop it.

Before I can say anything more, her phone buzzes, and she quickly picks it up, her face lighting up as she reads the message. I can't help but glance over.

Jackson: "Miss you already 😏. How's New York?"

She types back quickly, her fingers flying over the screen.

Josy: "Cold. But I guess it's better now that you texted 😉."

I watch the exchange, my stomach sinking a little. It's not that I don't trust Jackson—he's my boy. But I know him. He's never been one for relationships. The guy dates like it's a sport, and Josy? She's not just some girl to mess around with. She's my sister.

"You're falling for him," I say, more as a statement than a question.

Josy glances up at me, biting her lip. "I don't know... maybe? It's complicated."

I let out a sigh, leaning back against the couch. "Look, I just don't want you getting hurt. Jackson's... he's Jackson. I'm not saying he doesn't care about you, but I've seen him with girls before, and it never ends well."

She frowns, her fingers idly tapping the screen of her phone. "I get that, but he's different with me. It's not like with those other girls."

I don't say anything, but I can't help feeling a little uneasy. Jackson's my best friend, but Josy's my sister, and if he hurts her... it's going to be a problem.

Later that night, after Josy's gone up to her room, I'm lying in bed, staring at the ceiling. My leg aches, a dull throb that's become a constant reminder of everything that's uncertain. I should be focusing on getting back to the game, on rehab, on pushing myself harder to make a full recovery. But instead, my mind keeps drifting back to Josy and Jackson.

I grab my phone and shoot Jackson a quick message.

Marques: "You better not be messing with my sister, bro."

He replies almost immediately.

Jackson: "Chill, man. It's all good. You know me."

Marques: "Exactly. That's why I'm warning you."

Jackson: "I'm not messing around, Marques. Seriously."

I frown at his response, reading it over a couple of times. Something about the way he said it... maybe he's being real. Maybe this time it's different for him, too. But even if it is, I'm not sure I can trust it. Not when it's Josy on the line.

The next morning, Josy's on another call with Jackson, her voice light and playful as she talks to him. I'm sitting nearby, pretending to read something on my phone, but really, I'm listening.

When she sets her phone down for a moment, I grab it quickly, holding it up to my ear. "Yo, Jackson. You're turning into a lovesick puppy, bro. You sure you're not the one falling for her?"

I can hear Jackson groan on the other end, but there's a laugh there, too. "Man, give her the phone back."

I chuckle, tossing the phone back to Josy. But as I walk away, I can't shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, Jackson's in deeper than he wants to admit.

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