30. Alex Sebring
Chapter 30
Alex Sebring
Laughter rises over the clink of ice and the thrum of bass-heavy music. Whiskey and beer hang in the air, the lighting low and moody. Normally, I’d love to come and relax, a drink in hand, at a place like this. But tonight, I have bigger things on my mind.
It should be the perfect setting for a casual night out, but there’s nothing casual about this. Because tonight, I’m meeting Violet. And according to Magnolia, she isn’t just her best friend—she’s her other half, her ride-or-die, the person who knows everything about her, including how broken her heart was while we were apart.
This woman isn’t just important. She’s critical. And if she doesn’t like me? Well, that’s a problem.
Magnolia’s fingers tighten around mine. “You’re quiet. Are you good?”
Nerves buzz under my skin, but I shut it down, the way I used to before stepping onto the rugby pitch. “All good.”
Magnolia lifts a brow, unconvinced. “You sure? You’re doing that thing where you get all broody and silent.”
I smirk. “I’m always broody and silent.”
She steps in closer, tipping her head up to meet my eyes. “Listen, be yourself, okay?”
“That’s vague, lovie.”
“Okay, let me be clearer—be yourself, but also maybe brace yourself.”
“Very reassuring.”
She winks. “Glad to help.”
Magnolia tugs me through the crowd, weaving past groups of people pressed around high-top tables, and past the bar where a bartender is pouring a row of tequila shots for a group of friends already swaying to the music.
The further we move into the space, the more my pulse picks up.
It’s ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. I’ve played in stadiums filled with thousands of roaring fans, faced down by some of the toughest players in the world. But this meeting? I’m on edge.
This matters. Because, unlike Robin and Charlene, Violet gives a damn about Magnolia.
She was the one checking in on her while she was in Sydney. And she’s the one Magnolia was calling, texting, relying on when I wasn’t there.
Her approval counts. It’s essential.
The usual Friday night chaos fills the bar, and we scan for an open table.
“There.” She points toward a high-top table near the back. It’s one of the few unclaimed ones, tucked away from the noisiest part of the bar.
“Good find.”
A bit of quiet is a good thing—especially considering what’s about to happen.
I pull out a stool for her before settling into the one beside her.
Magnolia flags down a passing server. “Want a drink before the inquiry begins?”
“Hell yeah.”
“Is it an old-fashioned night?”
“Babe, every night is an old-fashioned night.”
Magnolia shifts toward me, her expression softer now. “You know she’s going to like you, right?”
“You sound confident.”
“I am.” She nudges my knee under the table. “No need to stress. Take a breath and relax.”
She’s trying to put me at ease, and I appreciate that.
“I’m fine.”
She watches me for a moment. “Go take a deep breath anyway. Your drink will be here when you get back.”
She doesn’t say it like an order. It’s soft. Steady. Like she’s handing me a lifeline without making a show of it.
Magnolia has a way of seeing the cracks before they split wide open—of knowing when the pressure gets too much, when the walls close in. She’s the only one who’s ever known how to pull me back from the edge without making me feel weak.
God, I love her.
I push away from the table. “Be right back.”
The men’s room is quiet—thankfully empty—giving me a moment to regroup. I lean against the sink, rolling my neck and shoulders, exhaling a slow breath.
It’s a conversation. That’s all this is. One woman’s opinion.
One very important woman.
I shake it off. It’ll be fine. Magnolia loves me. Violet loves Magnolia. By default, she should at least tolerate me, right?
…Right.
I push off the sink and head for the door. The second I step into the hallway, a woman appears out of nowhere, blocking my path.
I stop short.
She’s wrapped in a dress that clings to every inch of her. Bright red lipstick, eyes flicking over me like she’s sizing me up.
This one likes to be noticed.
“Damn. Didn’t think I’d get lucky this early in the night.”
Here we go.
I shift to move past her, but she mirrors me, stepping right into my path again. I’ve been in enough bars to recognize the look in her eyes.
“Excuse me.”
She doesn’t move. Instead, she tilts her head, smiling like she knows something I don’t. “You Australian?”
I nod once. “Born and raised.”
Her smile curves slow, deliberate. “Love the accent.”
I don’t react. Not the first time I’ve heard it, won’t be the last. Means nothing.
She shifts, angling her body enough to block my path. “So tell me—what’s a guy like you doing here alone?”
“I’m not alone. I’m with my girlfriend.”
She steps in closer, a breath too close, dropping her voice to something she thinks sounds seductive. “That doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun while you’re here.”
“It does, actually.”
Her grin widens, lazy and cocky. “Can I change your mind?”
“No. Now if you’ll excuse me, my girlfriend’s waiting for me.”
One brow arches high, practiced and sharp. “What are you? Some kind of saint?”
“Not a saint.” I meet her gaze, steady and unbothered. “But I am faithful.”
She studies me for a beat, head tilted. “Not even tempted?”
This is getting old fast. “Not interested. Excuse me.”
A smirk ghosts across her lips—a small, knowing thing.
“See you later,” she tosses over her shoulder before pivoting toward the ladies’ room, hips swinging like she still thinks she’s in the game.
I shake my head once, brushing it off. Don’t know what that was about. Don’t care.
I’ve got bigger things to focus on tonight.
Magnolia’s scrolling through her phone when I return to the table, glancing up as I slide onto the stool beside her.
“Everything okay?”
“All good.” I lift my drink, taking a slow sip.
“You were gone a while.”
I debate telling her about the woman—and then decide it might be fun to see her reaction.
“It’s nothing. Just some woman trying to hit on me. Wouldn’t take the hint.”
Magnolia’s brows arch. “Oh?”
“Happens all the time.”
She grins. “Does it now?”
I shrug. “This one was a ‘love your accent’ type.”
She props her elbow on the table, resting her chin in her hand, eyes glinting with amusement. “I seem to recall being one of those ‘love your accent’ types.”
I tip my glass toward her. “Yeah, but it was different coming from you.”
She hums like she’s giving it serious thought. “Right. Because I was classy about it?”
I arch a brow. “You told me my accent made you want to climb me like a tree.”
Her grin is wicked, unapologetic. “I don’t remember saying that, but I do like to climb you like a tree, so––”
I huff a quiet laugh and take a sip of my drink. “Where’s your girl?”
“Right here,” says a voice behind me.
That voice.
Dread slithers up my spine before I even see her face.
The woman from the hallway slides onto the stool across from me, a smug grin playing on her mouth.
Magnolia, oblivious, beams. “Vi, this is Alex.”
Vi.
As in Violet.
As in Magnolia’s best friend.
As in the one person whose opinion matters.
I don’t move. Don’t blink. My mind rewinds, in perfect clarity, every second of that hallway encounter.
She set me up.
She fucking set me up.
She watches me like a cat who just trapped a particularly interesting mouse.
“Violet and I already met.”
One thing is clear—Violet is going to make me work for her approval.
Magnolia looks between us. “You’ve already met?”
Violet’s smirk sharpens. “Oh, you know. Just a little pregame warm-up.”
She leans forward, resting one elbow on the bar. “Had to see for myself what we were working with before we got to this part.”
Magnolia’s eyes narrow, suspicion sharpening her features. “Violet… what did you do?”
She taps a manicured nail against the bar, slow and deliberate. “Just ran a quick loyalty check.”
Her gaze cuts to me. “He was about as tempted as a vegan at a barbecue competition.”
Violet lifts the drink I ordered for her and takes a slow sip. “I may have run into him outside the restroom. Recognized him. Pretended to be a random woman trying to pick him up.”
Magnolia makes a choking sound. “You did what?”
Violet flashes a wicked grin. “Magnolia, meet ‘love your accent’ girl.”
Understanding dawns on Magnolia’s face. “Ohhh. Now it all makes sense.”
Violet shrugs, unrepentant. “Had to see how he’d react.”
We both know I passed. I just want to hear her admit it. “And?”
She lifts her hand, examining her nails like she’s grading me. “Wasn’t charmed one bit. Very impressive… for a man.”
I don’t know whether to feel relieved or insulted.
Magnolia groans and drops her head into her hands. “Vi, you can’t ambush people like that.”
Violet smirks, unfazed. “I can, and I did. And honestly? If he had hesitated or even thought about it, wouldn’t you have wanted to know?”
Magnolia glares at her. “That’s not the point.”
“It is the point.”
I try to wrap my head around the madness unfolding in front of me. “Is this normal for you?”
Violet tilts her head like she’s considering it. “Only when it’s necessary.”
“And you decided this was necessary?”
Her gaze cuts into me. “My best friend’s heart shattered into a billion pieces. Guess who was there picking up those pieces? Me. So yeah, for me, it’s necessary.”
Magnolia groans and mutters something under her breath before turning to me, her expression caught somewhere between exasperation and apology. “I swear she means well.”
Violet grins, swirling her drink. “I do.”
I’m still debating whether I should laugh or just resign myself to my fate, but one thing is clear—this is going to be a long night.
“Can we at least try to have a normal conversation now?” Magnolia asks.
“Sure, but first––” Violet leans in, all faux seriousness. “What are your intentions with my best friend?”
I take a slow sip of my drink, leveling her with a look of my own. “You go for the jugular, don’t you?”
Violet nods. “Damn right I do.”
Magnolia groans. I just smirk.
Let the games begin.
“Okay, Vi. How about letting Alex breathe for a minute?”
She shrugs, feigning innocence. “I just need to make sure he’s the good guy I want him to be.”
I bite back a grin. “You could’ve just asked.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” She flashes a wicked grin and studies me. “But now that we’re here, tell me, Sebring—what are your long-term plans?”
Is Violet her best friend… or a mob boss vetting the guy dating his little girl? Hard to tell. All she’s missing is a baseball bat and a couple of goons named Tony and Vinny flanking her.
I glance at Magnolia, but she’s not helping me out of this. If anything, she’s watching with a mix of amusement and mild horror.
I shift my attention back to Violet. “You want the business proposal version or the emotionally vulnerable one?”
Her eyes light up. “Oh, I love a man with options. Let’s start with business and work our way up.”
Magnolia groans. “Oh my God.”
I smirk, leaning forward. “Fine. Business version? Magnolia is the smartest investment I could make—for my future, my happiness, and everything that comes next.”
Violet lets out a hum of approval, nodding. “Not bad. And the emotionally vulnerable version?”
My smirk fades into something more honest, more real. “I love her. Completely.”
The words come easy because they’re the truest thing I’ve ever said.
Violet’s teasing fades. A flicker of something unreadable crosses her face, something softer. “Good answer.”
Magnolia shifts beside me, her fingers tightening around mine under the table.
“Do I have your stamp of approval?”
She chews on the stir stick, like a cat playing with her food. “For now.”
She eases off the interrogation—a little.
We settle into something that resembles normal conversation, but there’s an undercurrent to it. A constant evaluation. She’s still watching me, still testing me, even if it’s not obvious.
Magnolia nudges her knee against mine under the table. “You holding up okay?”
She has no idea the things I’ve endured. “I’ve survived worse.”
“You’re a tough one. I’ll give you that. And speaking of being tough––” Violet twirls her finger, gesturing to my face. “How’s the other guy look?”
Magnolia tenses beside me.
No hesitation. “He looks like someone who shouldn’t have fucked with Magnolia.”
“You protected my girl. I like that.” Violet hums, nodding. “Much respect.”
I expected pushback—a lecture about how violence solves nothing or how I’m a walking red flag for swinging first and thinking second.
No reprimand. No judgment.
Only respect.
Violet waves a hand, casual but deliberate. “For the record, I like you. You’re good for her.”
Winning Violet over feels bigger than any game or championship I’ve ever won.
“Don’t fuck this up, Sebring.”
“I won’t. Because Magnolia’s the biggest win of my life. No offense to my rugby career.”
Violet lifts her glass, holding it upwards, and I tap my drink against hers. “Cheers.”
And just like that, I’m in with her.
Violet made me work for it, but I passed. And for the first time tonight, my shoulders relax, and I breathe a little easier.